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Elsin Grey. 



I 


I 



V 


The 

RECKONING 


BY 

ROBERT W. CHAMBERS 

AUTHOR OF “cardigan,” “ THE MAID-AT*ARM8,” 
“the king in YEIAiOW,” ETC. 


NEW YORK 

A. WESSELS COMPANY 


Copyright, 1905, by 
ROBERT W. CHAMBERS 



■1 


Published September, 1905 



PRESS OF 

BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


PREFACE 


The author’s intention is to treat, in a series of four 
or five romances, that part of the war for independence 
which particularly affected the great landed families of 
northern New York: the Johnsons, represented by Sir 
William, Sir John, Guy Johnson, and Colonel Claus; 
the notorious Butlers, father and son; the S^hjjyl ers. 
Van Rensselaers, and others. 

The first romance of'^tshe series, Cardigan, was fol- 
lowed by the second. The Maid-at-Arms. The third in 
order is not completed. The fourth is the present 
volume. 

As Cardigan pretended to portray life on the ba- 
ronial estate of Sir William Johnson, the first uneasiness 
concerning the coming trouble, the first discordant note 
struck in the harmonious councils of the Long House, 
so, in The Maid-at-Arms, which followed in order, the 
author attempted to paint a patroon family disturbed 
by the approaching rumble of battle. That romance 
dealt with the first serious split in the Iroquois Confed- 
eracy ; it showed the Long House shattered though not 
fallen; the demoralization and final flight of the great 
landed families who remained loyal to the British 
Crown; and it struck the key-note to the future atti^ 
tude of the Iroquois toward the patriots of the frontier 
vii 


TO MY FRIEND 


J. HAMBLEN SEAES 

WHOSE UNSELFISH FRIENDSHIP AND SOUND ADVICE 
I ACKNOWLEDGE IN THIS 


DEDICATION 


I 

His muscle to the ax and plow. 

His calm eye to the rijle sight. 

Or at his country'' s hecTc and how. 

Setting the fiery cross alight. 

Or, in the citfis pageantry. 

Serving the Cause in secrecy , — 

Behold him now, haranguing Icings 
While through the shallow court there rings 
The light laugh of the courtezan ; 

This the New Yorker, this the Man! 

II 

Standing upon his blackened land. 

He saw the fiames mount up to God, 

He saw the death tracks in the sand. 

And the dead children on the sod. 

He saw the half-charred door, unbarred. 
The dying hound he left on guard. 

And that still thing he once had wed 
Sprawled on the threshold dripping red: 
Dry-eyed he primed his rifle pan; 

This the New Yorker, this the Man! 
xiii 


Ill 


He plowed the graveyard of his dead 
And sowed the grain to feed a host; 

In silent lands untena^ited 

Save hy the Sachems"' painted ghost 

He set the ensign of the sun; 

A thousand axes rang as one 
In the black forests falling roar. 

And through the glade the plowshare tore 
Like Gods own blade in Freedom's van; 
This the New Yorker, and the Man! 

R. W. C. 


xiv 


PROLOGUE 

ECHOES OF YESTERDAY 

His Excellency’s system of intelligence in the City 
of New York I never pretended to comprehend. That 
I was one of many agents I could have no doubt ; yet as 
long as I remained there I never knew but three or four 
established spies with residence in town. Although I had 
no illusions concerning Mr. Gaine and his “ Gazette,” at 
intervals I violently suspected Mr. Rivington of friendli- 
ness to us, and this in spite of his Tory newspaper and 
the fierce broadsides he fired at rebels and rebellion. But 
I must confess that in my long and amiable acquaint- 
ance with the gentleman he never, by word or hint or 
inference, so much as by the quiver of an eyelash, 
corroborated my suspicion, and to this day I do not 
know whether or not Mr. Rivington furnished secret 
information to his Excellency while publicly in print 
he raged and sneered. 

Itinerant spies were always in the city in spite of 
the deadly watch kept up by regular and partizan, and 
sometimes they bore messages for me, the words “Pro 
Gloria” establishing their credentials as well as mine. 
They entered the city in all guises and under all pre- 
texts, some as refugees, some as traitors, some wearing 


XV 


PROLOGUE 


the uniform of Tory partizan corps, others attired as 
tradesmen, farmers, fishermen, and often bearing passes, 
too, though where they contrived to find passes I never 
understood. 

It was a time of sullenness and quick suspicion ; few 
were free from doubt, but of those few I made one — 
until that day when my enemy arrived — but of that in 
its place, for now I mean to say a word about this city 
that I love — ^that we all love, understanding how 
alone she stood in seven years’ chains, yet dauntless, 
dangerous, and defiant. 

For upon New York fell the brunt of British wrath, 
and the judgment of God fell, too, passing twice in fire 
that laid one-quarter of the town in cinders. Nor was 
that enough, for His lightning smote the powder-ship, 
the Mommg Star, where she swung at her moorings off 
from Bqrling Slip, and the very sky seemed falling in 
the thunder that shook the shoreward houses into ruins. 

I think that, take it all in all, New York met and 
withstood every separate horror that war can bring, 
save actual assault and sack. Greater hardships fell to 
the lot of no other city in America, for we lost more 
than a half of our population, more than a fourth of 
the city by the two great fires. Want, with the rich, 
meant famine for the poor and sad privation for the 
well-to-do ; smallpox and typhus swept us ; commerce by 
water died, and slowly our loneliness became a madden- 
ing isolation, when his Excellency flung out his blue 
dragoons to the very edges of the river there at Harlem 
Bridge. 

I often think it strange that New York town re- 


XVI 


PROLOGUE 


mained so loyal to the cause, for loyalty to the king 
was inherent among the better classes. Many had vast 
estates, farms, acres on acres of game parks, and lived 
like the landed gentry of old England. Yet, save for 
the DeLanceys, the Crugers, their kinsmen, the Fan- 
nings, kin to the Tryons, Frederick Rhinelander, the 
Waltons, and others too tedious to mention, the gentle- 
men who had the most to lose through friendliness to 
the cause of liberty, chose to espouse that cause. 

As for the British residents there, they remained in 
blameless loyalty to their King, and I, for one, have 
never said one word to cast a doubt upon the purity of 
their sentiments. 

But with all this, knowing what must come, no other 
city in America so gaily set forth upon the road to ruin 
as did patriotic New York. And from that dreadful 
hour when, through the cannon smoke on Brooklyn 
Heights, she beheld the ghastly face of ruin leering at 
her across the foggy water — from that heart-breaking 
hour when the British drums rolled from the east, and 
the tall war-ships covered themselves with smoke, and the 
last flag flying was hacked from the halyards, and the 
tramp of the grenadiers awoke the silence of Broad- 
way, she never faltered in her allegiance, never doubted, 
never failed throughout those seven years the while she 
lay beneath the British heel, a rattlesnake, stunned only, 
but deadly still while the last spark of life remained. 

Were I to tell a tithe of all I know of what took place 
during the great siege, the incidents might shame the 
wildest fancies of romance — how intrigue swayed with 
intrigue there, struggling hilt to hilt; how plot and 
2 xvii 


PROLOGUE 


plot were thwarted by the counterplot; how all trust in 
man was destroyed in that dark year that Arnold died, 
and a fiend took his fair shape to scandalize two hem- 
ispheres ! 

Yet I am living witness of those years. I heard and 
saw much that I shall not now revive, as where the vic- 
tims of a pest lie buried it is not wise to dig, lest the 
unseen be loosened once again. Yet something it may 
be well to record of that time — ^the curtain lifted for a 
glimpse, then dropped in silence — to teach our children 
that the men who stood against their King stood with 
hope of no reward save liberty, but faced the tempest 
that they had unchained with souls self-shriven and each 
heart washed free of selfishness. 

So if I speak of prisons where our thousands died — > 
hind and gentleman piled thick as shad in the fly market 
— sick and well and wounded all together — it shall not 
be at length, only a scene or two that sticks in memory. 

Once, in the suffocating heat of mid- July, I saw a; 
prison where every narrow window was filled with human 
heads, face above face, seeking a portion of the external 
air. And from that day, for many, many weeks the 
’ dead-carts took the corpses to the outer ditches, passing 
steadily from dawn to midnight. 

All day, all night, they died around us in ship and 
prison, some from suffocation, some from starvation, 
others delivered by prison fevers which rotted them so 
slowly that I think even death shrank back reluctant to 
touch them with his icy finger. 

So piteous their plight, these crowded thousands, 
crushed in putrid masses, clinging to the filthy prison 
xviii 


PROLOGUE 


bars, that they aroused compassion in that strange and 
ancient guild that once had claimed the Magdalen in its 
sad sisterhood, and these aided them with food, year 
after year, until deliverance. 

They had no other food, no water except from pol- 
luted drains, no fire in winter, no barriers to the blackest 
cold that ever seared the city from the times that man 
remembers. I say they had no other food and no fire to 
cook the offal flung to them. That is not all true, be- 
cause we did our best, being permitted to furnish what 
we had — we and the strange sisterhood — yet they were 
thousands upon thousands, and we were few. 

It is best that I say no more, for that proud Eng- 
land’s sake from whose loins we sprang — it is best that 
I speak not of Captain Cunningham the Provost, nor 
of his deputy, O’Keefe, nor of Sproat and Loring. 
There was butchers’ work in my own North, and I shall 
not shrink from the telling; there was massacre, and 
scalps taken from children too small to lisp their prayers 
for mercy ; that was devils’ work, and may be told. But 
Cunningham and those who served him were alone in 
their awful trade; cruelty unspeakable and frenzied vice 
are terms which fall impotent to measure the ghastly 
depths of an infamy in which they crawled and squirmed, 
battening like maggots on hell’s own pollution. 

Long since, I think, we have clasped hands with 
England over Cherry Valley and Wyoming, forgiving 
her the loosened fury of her red allies and her Butlers 
and McDonalds. The scar remains, but is remembered 
only as a glory. 

How shall we take old England’s wrinkled hand, 
xix 


PROLOGUE 


stretched out above the spots that mark the prisons of 
New York? — above the twelve thousand unnamed graves 
of those who died for lack of air and water aboard the 
Jersey? God knows; and yet all things are possible 
with Him — even this miracle which I shall never live 
to see. 

Without malice, without prejudice, judging only as 
one whose judgment errs, I leave this darkened path 
for a free road in the open, and so shall strive to tell 
as simply and sincerely as I may what only befell myself 
and those with whom I had been long associated. And 
if the pleasures that I now recall seem tinged with bitter, 
and if the gaiety was but a phase of that greater 
prison fever that burnt us all in the beleaguered city, 
still there was much to live for in those times through 
which I, among many, passed ; and by God’s mercy, not 
my own endeavor, passed safely, soul and body. 


XX 


THE RECKONING 


CHAPTER I 

THE SPY 

Having finished my duties in connection with Sir 
Peter’s private estate and his voluminous correspond- 
ence — and the door of my chamber being doubly locked 
and bolted — I made free to attend to certain secret cor- 
respondence of my own, which for four years now had 
continued, without discovery, between the Military In- 
telligence Department of the Continental army and 
myself through the medium of one John Ennis, the 
tobacconist at the Sign of the Silver Box in Hanover 
Square. 

Made confident by long immunity from the slightest 
shadow of suspicion, apprehension of danger seldom 
troubled my sense of security. It did sometimes, as 
when the awful treason at West Point became known 
to me; and for weeks as I lay abed I thought to hear 
in every footfall on Broadway the measured tread of a 
patrol come to take me. Yet the traitor continued in 
New York without sinister consequence to me; and, 
though my nights were none the pleasanter during that 
sad week which ended in the execution of the British 
adjutant-general, no harm came to me. Habit is the 

1 


THE RECKONING 


great sedative; at times, penning my spy’s journal, I 
smiled to remember how it was with me when first I came 
to New York in 1777, four years since, a country lad 
of nineteen, fresh from the frontier, where all my life 
had been spent among the Oneidas and the few neigh- 
bors nearest Broadalbin Bush — a raw youth, fright- 
ened but resolved; and how I lived through those first 
months of mental terror, now appalled by the fate of 
our Captain Nathan Hale, now burning with a high 
purpose and buoyed up by pride that his Excellency 
should have found in me a fit instrument for his designs. 

I have never known whether or not I am what men 
call brave, for I understand fear and I turn cold at 
thought of death. Often I have sat alone in the house 
watching the sober folk along Broadway and Wall 
Street, knowing all the w^hile that these same good peo- 
ple might to-morrow all go flocking to Catiemuts Hill 
near the Fresh Water, or to that open space in the 
“ Fields ” between the jail and the Almshouse, to see me 
on the gallows. If such thoughts do not assail the 
brave — if restless nights, wakeful dawns, dull days are 
not their portion — I must own that all these were mine, 
not often, perhaps, but too frequent to flatter self- 
esteem. And, fight them as I might, it was useless ; for 
such moments came without warning — often when I had 
been merry with friends, at times when, lulled by long- 
continued security, I had nigh forgotten through event- 
less months that there was a war and that I had become 
a New Yorker only because of war. 

It was harder now, in one sense ; four years as sec- 
retary to my kinsman, Sir Peter Coleville, had admitted 


THE SPY 


me to those social intimacies so necessary to my secret 
office ; and, alas ! friendships had been made and ties 
formed not only in the line of duty, but from impulse 
and out of pure affection. 

I had never found it was required of me to pose as 
a rabi3 loyalist, and so did not, being known as disin- 
terested and indifferent, and perhaps for that reason 
not suspected. My friends were from necessity among 
the best among the loyalists — from choice, too, for I 
liked them for their own sakes, and it was against their 
cause I worked, not against them. 

It went hard with me to use them as I did — I so 
loathing perfidy in others ; yet if it be perfidy to con- 
tinue in duty as I understood duty, then I practised it, 
and at times could scarce tolerate myself, which was 
a weakness, because in my own heart I knew that his 
Excellency could set no man a task unworthy of his 
manhood. Yet it were pleasanter had my duties thrown 
me with the army, or with Colonel Willett in my 
native north, whence, at his request, I had come to 
live a life of physical sloth and mental intrigue under 
the British cannon of New York — here in the house- 
hold of Sir Peter Coleville, his secretary, his friend, his 
welcomed guest, the intimate of his family, his friends ! 
— that was the hardest of all; and though for months 
at a time I managed to forget it, the recurring thought 
of what I was, and what they believed me to be, stabbed 
me at intervals so I could scarce endure it. 

Nothing, not even the belief that God was with us, 
I fear, could have held me there when the stress of such 
emotion left me staring at the darkness in my restless 

3 


THE RECKONING 


bed — only blind faith in his Excellency that he would 
do no man this shame, if shame it was — that he knew 
as well as I that the land’s salvation was not to be se- 
cured through the barter of men’s honor and the death 
of souls. 

The door being secured, as I say, and the heat of 
that July day abating nothing, though the sun hung 
low over Staten Island, I opened my windows, removed 
coat and waistcoat, and, drawing a table to the win- 
dow, prepared to write up that portion of my daily 
journal neglected lately, and which, when convenient 
opportunity offered, 'was to find its way into the hands 
of Colonel Marinus Willett in Albany. Before I wrote 
I turned back a leaf or two so that I might correct my 
report in the light of later events ; and I read rapidly : 

July 12, 1781 . — Nothing remarkable. Very warm 
weather, and a bad odor from the markets. There is 
some talk in the city of rebuilding the burned district. 
Two new cannon have been mounted in the southwest 
bastion of the fort (George). I shall report caliber 
and particulars later. 

July ISth . — This day Sir Peter left to look over 
the lands in Westchester which he is, I believe, prepared 
to purchase from Mr. Rutgers. The soldiers are very 
idle; a dozen of ’em caught drawing a seine in the Col- 
lect, and sent to the guard-house — a dirty trick for any- 
body but Hessians, who are accustomed to fish in that 
manner. The cannon in the southwest bastion are 
twelve-pounders and old — trunnions rusted, carriages 
4 


THE SPY 


rotten. It seems they are trophies taken from the Caro- 
lina militia. 

July nth . — A ship arrived in the lower bay. De- 
tails later. In Nassau Street, about noon, a tall fellow, 
clothed like a drover, muttered a word or two as I 
passed, and I had gone on ere it struck me that he had 
meant his words for my ear. To find him I turned 
leisurely, retracing my steps as though I had forgotten 
something, and as I brushed him again, he muttered, 
“ Thendara ; tell me where it is.” 

At that moment Captain Enderley of the Fifty- 
fourth Foot greeted me, linking his arm in mine, and 
I had no excuse to avoid him. More of this to-night, 
when, if the message was truly for me, I shall doubtless 
be watched and followed when I leave the house for a 
stroll. 

July 15th . — Last night there was no chance, End- 
erley and Captain O’Neil coming to take me to the 
theater, where the Thirty-eighth Regiment gave a frolic 
and a play — the latter most indifferent, save for Mrs. 
Barry’s acting. I saw my drover in John Street, too, 
but could not speak to him. 

This morning, however, I met the drover, and he 
was drunk, or made most marvelous pretense — a great 
six-foot, blue-eyed lout in smock and boots, reeking of 
Bull’s Head gin, his drover’s whip a-trail in the dust, 
and he a-swaggering down Nassau Street, gawking at 
the shop-windows and whistling Roslyn Castle with 
prodigious gusto. 

I made it convenient to pause before Berry and 
Roger’s show of jewels, and he stopped, too, swaying 
5 


THE RECKONING 


there gravely, balanced now on hobnail heel, now on 
toe. Presently he ceased his whistling of Roslyn Cas- 
tle, and in a low but perfectly distinct voice he said, 
“ Where is the town of Thendara, Mr. Renault.? ” 
Without looking at him or even turning my head, I 
answered, “ Why do you ask me ? ” 

He stared stupidly at the show-window. “ Pro 
patria et gloria,” he replied under his breath ; “ why 
do you serve the land.? ” 

“ Pro gloria,” I muttered. “ Give your message ; 
liasten.” 

He scratched his curly head, staring at the gew- 
gaws. “ It is this,” he said coolly ; “ find out if there 
be a lost town in the north called Thendara, or if the 
name be used to mask the name of Fort Niagara. 
When you have learned all that is possible, walk some 
evening up Broadway a,nd out along Great George 
Street. We will follow.” 

“ Who else besides yourself.? ” 

“ A brother drover — of men,” he said slyly ; “ a 
little wrinkled fellow, withered to the bone, wide-eared, 
mild-eyed. He is my running mate, sir, and we run 
sometimes, now this way, now that, but always at your 
service, Mr. Renault.” 

“ Are you drunk, or is it a pretense.? ” I demanded. 

“ Not too drunk,” he replied, with elaborate em- 
phasis. “ But once this matter of Thendara is settM' 
I hope to be so drunk that no friend of mine need be 
ashamed of me. Good day, sir. God save our coun- 
try!” 

“ Have a care,” I motioned, turning awav. And 

6 


THE SPY 


SO I left him to enter the shop and purchase a trinket, 
thinking it prudent in case any passer-by had observed 
how long I lingered. 

July 16th , — Sir Peter not yet returned from Mr. 
Rutgers. The name “ Thendara ” ringing in my ears 
like a dull bell all night, and I awake, lying there 
a-thinking. Somewhere, in some long-forgotten year, 
I had heard a whispering echo of that name — or so it 
seemed to me — and, musing, I thought to savor a breeze 
from the pines, and hear water flowing, unseen, far in 
the forest silence. 

Thendara ! Thendara ! 

The name is not Iroquois — yet it may be, too — 
a soft, gracious trisyllable stolen from the Lenape. 
Lord! how the name intrigues me, sweetly sonorous, 
throbbing in my ears — Thendara, Thendara — and al- 
ways I hear the pine breeze high blowing and the flow- 
ing undertone of waters. 

July 17th . — Nothing extraordinary. The Hon. 
Elsin Grey arrived from Halifax by the Swan packet 
to visit Sir Peter’s family, she being cousin twice re- 
moved to Lady Coleville. I have not seen her ; she keeps 
her chamber with the migraine. As she comes from her 
kinsman. General Sir Frederick Haldimand, Governor 
of Canada, she may be useful, being lately untethered 
from the convent and no more than seventeen or eight- 
een, and vain, no doubt, of her beauty, and so, I con- 
clude, prone to babble if flattered. 

Here my journal ended; I dipped my quill into the 
inkhorn and wrote slowly : 

7 


THE RECKONING 


July 18th . — Nothing remarkable. The Hon. Elsin 
Grey still keeps her chamber. The heat in New York 
is very great. I am, without suspicion, sending money 
through Ennis to our prisoners aboard the ships in the 
Wallabout, and next week shall have more for the un- 
fortunates in the Provost, the prisons, jails, and the 
sugar-house — my salary being due on the 20th inst. I 
have ever in mind a plan for a general jail delivery the 
instant his Excellency assaults by land and sea, but at 
present it is utterly hopeless, Mr. Cunningliam executing 
the laws with terrible rigor, and double guards patrol- 
ling the common. As for those wretched patriots aboard 
the ** HelV and on those hulks — the Falconer, Good 
Hope, and Scorpion — which lie southeast of the Jersey, 
there can be no delivery save through compassion of that 
Dark Jailer who one day shall free us all. 

I dropped my pen, listening intently. Close to my 
door the garret stairs creaked, ever so lightly; and I 
bent forward across the table, gathering my papers, on 
which the ink lay still wet. 

Listening, I heard nothing more. Perhaps the great 
heat was warping the new stairvvay, which led past my 
door, up through the attic, and out to the railed cupola 
upon the roof. 

I glanced at my j ournal ; there was nothing more to 
add, and so, sanding the sheets, I laid them back behind 
the swinging panel which I myself had fashioned so 
cunningly that none might suspect a cupboard in the 
simple wainscot. Then to wash hands and face in fresh 
water, and put on my coat without the waistcoat, pre- 
8 


THE SPY 


pared to take the air on the cupola, where it should soon 
blow cool from the bay. 

Slipping lock and bolt, I paused, hand on the knob, 
to glance back around the room — a habit formed of 
caution. Then, satisfied, I opened the door and left it 
standing wide so that the room might air. As I as- 
cended the attic stairs a little fresh puff of wind cooled 
me. Doubtless a servant had opened the flaps to the 
cupola, for they were laid back; and as I mounted, I 
could see a square of blue sky overhead. 

I had taken my pipe, and paused on the stairs to 
light it ; then, pouching flint and tinder-box, I emerged 
upon the roof, to find myself face to face with a young 
girl I had never before seen — the Hon. Miss Grey, no 
doubt — and very dainty in her powder and one coquette 
patch that emphasized the slow color tinting a skin of 
snow. 

My bow, I think, covered my vexation — I being all 
unpowdered and wearing no waistcoat over an unfrilled 
shirt, for I do love fine clothes when circumstances re- 
quire; but the lady was none the less punctilious, and 
as I made to toss my pipe into the street below, she for- 
bade me with perfect courtesy and a smile that only 
accented her youthful self-possession. 

“ Mr. Renault need neither retire nor sacrifice his 
pleasure,” she said. “ I have missed Sir Frederick’s 
pipe-smoke dreadfully — so much, indeed, that I had 
even thought to try Sir Peter’s snuff to soothe me.” 

“ Shall I fetch it, madam ? ” I asked instantly ; but 
she raised a small hand in laughing horror. 

“ Snuff and picquet I am preparing for — a youth 

9 


THE RECKONING 


of folly — an old age of snuff and cards, you know. At 
present folly suffices, thank you.” 

And as I stood smiling before her, she said : “ Pray 
you be seated, sir, if you so desire. There should be 
sufficient air for two in this half-charred furnace which 
you call New York. Tell me, Mr. Renault, are the win- 
ters here also extreme in cold.?^ ” 

“ Sometimes,” I said. “ Last winter the bay was 
frozen to Staten Island so that the artillery crossed on 
the ice from the city.” 

She turned her head, looking out over the water, 
which was now all a golden sparkle under the westering 
sun. Then her eyes dropped to the burned district — 
that waste of blackened ruins stretching south along 
Broadway to Beaver Street and west to Greenwich 
Street. 

“ Is that the work of rebels ? ” she asked, frowning. 

“ No, madam; it was an accident.” 

“ Why do the New Yorkers not rebuild.^ ” 

“ I think it is because General Washington inter- 
rupts local improvements,” I said, laughing. 

She looked around at me, pretty brows raised in 
quaint displeasure. 

“ Does the insolence of a rebel really amuse you, 
Mr. Renault.?” 

I was taken aback. Even among the British officers 
here in the city it had become the fashion to speak re- 
spectfully of the enemy, and above all of his Excellency. 

“ Why should it not amuse me.? ” I asked lightly. 

She had moved her head again, and appeared to be 
absorbed in the view. Presently she said, still looking 
10 


THE SPY 


out over the city : “ That was a noble church once, that 
blackened arch across the way.” 

That is Trinity — all that is left of it,” I said. 
“ St. Paul’s is still standing — you may see it there to 
the north, just west of Ann Street and below Vesey.” 

She turned, leaning on the railing, following with 
curious eyes the direction of my outstretched arm. 

“ Please tell me more about this furnace you call 
a city, Mr. Renault,” she said, with a pretty inflection 
of voice that flattered; and so I went over beside her, 
and, leaning there on the cupola rail together, we ex- 
plored the damaged city from our bird’s perch above 
it — the city that I had come to care for strangely, nay, 
to love almost as I loved my Mohawk hills. For it is 
that way with New York, the one city that we may love 
without disloyalty to our birthplace, a city which is 
home in a larger sense, and, in a sense, almost as dear 
to men as the birth-spot which all cherish. I know not 
why, but this is so; no American is long strange here; 
for it is the great hearth of the mother-land where the 
nation gathers as a family, each conscious of a share 
in the heritage established for all by all. 

And so, together, this fair young English girl and 
I traced out the wards numbered from the cardinal 
points of the compass, and I bounded for her the Out- 
Ward, too, and the Dock-Ward. There was no haze, 
only a living golden light, clear as topaz, and we could 
see plainly the sentinels pacing before the Bridewell 
that long two-storied prison, built of gloomy stone; 
and next to it the Almshouse of gray stone, and next 
to that the massive rough stone prison, three stories 
11 


THE RECKONING 


high, where in a cupola an iron bell hung, black against 
the sky. 

“ You will hear it, some day, tolling for an exe- 
cution,” I said. 

“ Do they hang rebels there ? ” she asked, looking 
up at me so wonderingly, so innocently that I stood 
silent instead of answering, surprised at such beauty in 
a young girl’s eyes. 

“Where is King’s College?” she asked. I showed 
her the building bounded by Murray, Chapel, Barckley 
and Church streets, and then I pointed out the upper 
barracks behind the jail, and the little lake beyond 
divided by a neck of land on which stood the powder- 
house. 

Far across the West Ward I could see the windows 
of Mr. Lispenard’s mansion shining in the setting sun, 
and the road to Greenwich winding along the river. 

She tired of my instruction after a while, and her 
eyes wandered to the bay. A few ships lay off Paulus 
Hook; the Jersey shore seemed very near, although full 
two miles distant, and the islands, too, seemed close in- 
shore where the white wings of gulls flashed distantly. 

A jack flew from the Battery, another above the 
fort, standing out straight in the freshening breeze 
from the bay. Far away across the East River I saw 
the accursed Jersey swinging, her black, filthy bulwarks 
gilded by the sun ; and below, her devil’s brood of hulks 
at anchor, all with the wash hung out on deck a-drying 
in the wind. 

“ What are they ? ” she asked, surprising something 
else than the fixed smile of deference in my face. 

12 


THE SPY 


“ Prison ships, madam. Yonder the rebels die all 
night, all day, week after week, year after year. That 
black hulk you see yonder — the one to the east — 
stripped clean, with nothing save a derrick for bow- 
sprit and a signal-pole for mast, is the Jersey, called by 
another name, sometimes ” 

“ What name.? ” 

‘‘ Some call her ‘ The Hell," "" I answered. And, 
after a pause : “ It must be hot aboard, with every port- 
hole nailed.” 

“ What can rebels expect.? ” she asked calmly. 

“ Exactly ! There are some thousand and more 
aboard the Jersey. When the wind sets from the south, 
on still mornings, I have heard a strange moaning — 
a low, steady, monotonous plaint, borne inland over 
the city. But, as you say, what can rebels expect, 
madam.? ” 

“ What is that moaning sound you say that one 
may hear.? ” she demanded. 

“ Oh, the rebels, dying from suffocation — clamor- 
ing for food, perhaps — perhaps for water! It is hard 
on the guards who have to go down every morning into 
that reeking, stifling hold and drag out the dead rebels 
festering there ” 

But that is horrible ! ” she broke out, blue eyes 
wide with astonishment — then, suddenly silent, she 
gazed at me full in the face. “ It is incredible,” she 
said quietly ; “ it is another rebel tale. Tell me, am 
I not right.? ” 

I did not answer; I was thinking how I might use 
her, and the thought was not agreeable. She was so 
3 13 


THE RECKONING 


lovely in her fresh young womanhood, so impulsive and 
yet so self-possessed, so utterly ignorant of what was 
passing in this war-racked land of mine, that I hesi- 
tated to go gleaning here for straws of infonnation. 

“ In the north,” she said, resting her cheek on one 
slender wrist, “ we hear much of rebel complaint, but 
make nothing of it, knowing well that if cruelty exists 
its home is not among those sturdy men who are fighting 
for their King.” 

“ You speak warmly,” I said, smiling. 

“ Yes — warmly. We have heard Sir John Johnson 
slandered because he uses the Iroquois. But do not the 
rebels use them, too ? My kinsman. General Haldi- 
mand, says that not only do the rebels employ the 
Oneidas, but that their motley congress enlists any 
Indian who will take their paper dollars.” 

“ That is true,” I said. 

“ Then why should we not employ Brant and his 
Indians ? ” she asked innocently. “ And why do the 
rebels cry out every time Butler’s Rangers take the field ? 
We in Canada know Captain Walter Butler and his 
father. Colonel John Butler. Why, Mr. Renault, there 
is no more perfectly accomplished officer and gentleman 
than Walter Butler. I know him; I have danced with 
him at Quebec and at Niagara. How can even a rebel 
so slander him with these monstrous tales of massacre 
and torture and scalps taken from women and children 
at Cherry Valley.^ ” She raised her flushed face to mine 
and looked at me earnestly. 

“ Why even our own British officers have been dis- 
turbed by these slanders,” she said, “ and I think Sir 
14 


THE SPY 


Henry Clinton half believes that our Royal Greens and 
Rangers are merciless marauders, and that Walter 
Butler is a demon incarnate.” 

“ I admit,” said I, “ that we here in New York 
have doubted the mercy of the Butlers and Sir John 
Johnson.” 

‘‘ Then let me paint these gentlemen for you,” she 
said quickly. 

“ But they say these gentlemen are capable of paint- 
ing themselves,” I observed, tempted to excite her by 
the hint that the Rangers smeared their faces like 
painted Iroquois at their hellish work. 

“ Oh, how shameful ! ” she cried, with a little ges- 
ture of horror. “ What do you think us, there in 
Canada Because our officers must needs hold a wil- 
derness for the King, do you of New York believe us 
savages.^ ” 

The generous animation, the quick color, charmed 
me. She was no longer English, she was Canadienne — 
jealous of Canadian reputation, quick to resent, sensi- 
tive, proud — heart and soul believing in the honor of 
her own people of the north. 

“ Let me picture for you these gentlemen whom the 
rebels cry out upon,” she said. “ Sir John Johnson is 
a mild, slow man, somewhat sluggish and overheavy, 
moderate in speech, almost cold, perhaps, yet a per- 
fectly gallant officer.” 

“ His father was a wise and honest gentleman be- 
fore him,” I said sincerely. “ Is his son. Sir John, like 
him ? ” 

She nodded, and went on to deal with old John But- 
15 


THE RECKONING 


ler — nor did I stay her to confess that these Johnsons 
and Butlers were no strangers to me, whose blackened 
Broadalbin home lay a charred ruin to attest the love 
that old John Butler bore my family name. 

And so I stood, smiling and silent, while she spoke 
of Walter Butler, describing him vividly, even to his 
amber black eyes and his pale face, and the poetic 
melancholy with which he clothed the hidden blood-lust 
that smoldered under his smooth pale skin. But there 
you have it — young, proud, and melancholy — and he 
had danced with her at Niagara, too, and — if I knew 
him — he had not spared her hints of that impetuous 
flame that burned for all pure women deep in the black- 
ened pit of his own damned soul. 

“ Did you know his wife.? ” I asked, smiling. 

“ Walter Butler’s — ^wife ! ” she gasped, turning on 
me, white as death. 

There was a silence; she drew a long, deep breath; 
suddenly, the gayest, sweetest little laugh followed, 
but it was slowly that the color returned to lip and 
cheek. 

“ Is he not wedded.? ” I asked carelessly — the 
damned villain — at his Mohawk Valley tricks again! 
— and again she laughed, which was, no doubt, my 
wordless answer. 

“Does he dance well, this melancholy Ranger?” I 
asked, smiling to see her laugh. 

“ Divinely, sir. I think no gentleman in New York 
can move a minuet with Walter Butler’s grace. Oh, 
you New Yorkers I You think we are nothing — fit, per- 
haps, for a May-pole frolic with the rustic gentry I Do 
16 


THE SPY 


not deny it, Mr. Renault. Have we not heard you on 
the subject.'^ Do not your officers from Philadelphia 
and New York come mincing and tiptoeing through 
Plalifax and Quebec, all smiling and staring about, 
quizzing glasses raised.^ And — ‘Very pretty! mon- 
strous charming I spike me, but the ladies powder here ! ’ 
And, ‘ Is this green grass Damme, where’s the snow 
— and the polar bears, you know ^ ’ ” 

I laughed as she paused, breathlessly scornful, 
flushed with charming indignation. 

“And is not Canada all snow.?^” I asked, to tease 

her. 

“ Snow I It is sweet and green and buried in 
flowers I ” she cried. 

“ In winter, madam ? ” 

“Oh! You mean to plague me, which is imper- 
tinent, because I do not know you well enough — I have 
not known you above half an hour. I shall tell Lady 
Coleville.” 

“ So shall I — how you abuse us all here in New 
York ” 

“ I did not. You are teasing me again, Mr. 
Renault.” 

Defiant, smiling, her resentment was, after all, only 
partly real. 

“ We are becoming friends much too quickly to suit 
me,” she said deliberately. 

“ But not half quickly enough to suit me,” I said. 

“ Do you fancy that I take that silly speech as com- 
pliment, Mr. Renault ? ” 

“ Ah, no, madam ! On such brief acquaintance I 

17 


THE RECKONING 


dare not presume to offer you the compliments that 
burn for utterance ! ” 

“ But you do presume to plague me — on such brief 
acquaintance ! ” she observed. 

“ I am punished,” I said contritely. 

“ No, you are not ! You are not punished at all, 
because I don’t know how to, and — I am not sure I wish 
to punish you, Mr. Renault.” 

“ Madam.? ” 

“ If you look at me so meekly I shall laugh. Be- 
sides, it is hypocritical. There is nothing meek about 
you ! ” I bowed more meekly than ever. 

“ Mr. Renault ? ” 

“ Madam.? ” 

She picked up her plumed fan impatiently and 
snapped it open. 

“ If you don’t stop being meek and answering 
‘ Madam ’ I shall presently go distracted. Call me 
something else — an3^thing — ^just to see how we like it. 
Tell me, do 3"ou know my first name.? ” 

“ Elsin,” I said softly, and to my astonishment a 
faint, burning sensation stung my cheeks, growing 
warmer and warmer. I think she was astonished, too, 
for few men at twenty-three could color up in those 
days; and there was I, a hardened New Yorker of four 
years’ adoption, turning pink like a great gaby at a 
country fair Avhen his sweetheart meets him at the ginger 
bower ! 

To cover my chagrin I nodded coolly, repeating 
her name with a critical air— “ Elsin,’’ I mused, out- 
wardly foppish, inwardly amazed and mad— “ Elsin— 

18 


THE SPY 


um ! ah ! — very pretty — very unusual,” I added, with a 
patronizing nod. 

She did not resent it; when at last I made bold to 
meet her gaze it was pensive and serene, yet I felt some- 
how that her innocent blue eyes had taken my measure 
as a man — and not to my advantage. 

“ Your name is not a usual one,” she said. “ When 
I first heard it from Sir Peter I laughed.” 

“Why.?” I said coldly. 

“Why.? Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Renault! It 
sounded so very young — Cams Renault — it sounds so 
young and guileless ” 

Speechless with indignation, I caught a glimmer 
under the lowered lids that mocked me, and I saw 
her mouth quiver with the laugh fluttering for free- 
dom. 

She looked up, all malice, and the pent laughter 
rippled. 

“ Very well,” I said, giving in, “ I shall take no 
pity on you in future.” 

“ My dear Mr. Renault, do you think I require 
your pity.? ” 

“ Not now,” I said, chagrined. “ But one day you 
may cry out for mercy ” 

“ Which you will doubtless accord, being a gallant 
gentleman and no Mohawk.” 

“ Oh, I can be a barbarian, too, for I am, by adop- 
tion, an Oneida of the Wolf Clan, and entitled to a seat 
in Council.” 

“ I see,” she said, “ you wear your hair a I’lro- 
quois.” 


19 


THE RECKONING 


I reddened again; I could not help it, knowing my 
hair was guiltless of powder and all awry. 

“ If I had supposed you were here, do you imagine 
I should have presented myself unpowdered and without 
a waistcoat ” I said, exasperated. 

Her laughter made it no easier, though I strove to 
retrieve myself and return to the light badinage she 
had routed me from. Lord, what a tease was in tliis 
child, with her deep blue eyes and her Dresden porcelain 
skin of snow and roses ! 

“ Now,” she said, recovering her gravity, “ you may 
return to your letter-writing, Mr. Renault. I have 
done with you for the moment.” 

At that I was sobered in a trice. 

“What letter-writing.?” I made out to answer 
calmly. 

“ Were you not hard at work penning a missive to 
some happy soul who enjoys your confidence.? ” 

“ Why do you believe I was.? ” I asked. 

She tossed her head airily. “ Oh ! for that matter, 
I could even tell you what you wrote: ‘ Nothing remark- 
able ; the Hon. Elsin Grey still keeps her chamber ’ — 
did you not write that .? ” 

She paused, the smile fading from her face. Per- 
haps she thought she had gone too far, perhaps some- 
thing in my expression startled her. 

“ I beg your pardon,” she said quickly ; “ have I 
hurt you, Mr. Renault .? ” 

“ How did you know I wrote that.? ” I asked in a 
voice I hoped was steady. 

“ Why, it is there on your shirt, Mr. Renault, im- 

20 


THE SPY 


printed backward from the wet ink. I have amused 
myself by studying it out letter by letter. Please for- 
give me — it was dreadfully indiscreet — but I only 
meant to torment you.” 

I looked down, taking my fine lawn shirt in both 
hands. There was the impression — my own writing, 
backward, but distinct. I remembered when I had done 
it, when I had gathered my ink-wet papers under my 
arms and leaned forward to listen to the creaking of 
the attic stairway. Suppose it had been Sir Peter! 
Suppose the imprint had been something that could 
have admitted of but one interpretation ? I turned cold 
at the thought. 

She was watching me all the while, a trifle uneasy 
at my silence, but my smile and manner reassured her, 
and my gaiety she met instantly. 

“ I am overwhelmed,” I said, “ and can offer no 
excuse for this frowsy dress. If you had any idea how 
mortified I am you would have mercy on me.” 

“ My hair not being dressed a I’lroquois, I consent 
to show you mercy,” she said. “ But you came mon- 
strous near frightening me, too. Do you know you 
turned white, Mr. Renault Lud I the vanity of men, 
to pale at a jest touching their status in fopdom as 
proper macaroni I ” 

“ I do love to appear well,” I said resentfully. 

“ Now do you expect me to assure you that you do 
appear well.? that even the dress of a ragged forest- 
runner would detract nothing from your person.? Ah, I 
shall say nothing of the sort, Mr. Renault I Doubtless 
there are women a-plenty in New York to flatter you.” 

21 


THE RECKONING 


“ No,” I said ; “ they prefer scarlet coats and spurs, 
as you will, too.” 

“No doubt,” she said, turning her head to the 
sunset. 

There was enough wind to flutter the ribbons on 
her shoulders and bare neck, and to stir the tendrils of 
her powdered hair, a light breeze blowing steadily from 
the bay as the sun went down into the crimson flood. 
Bang ! A cloud of white smoke hung over Pearl Street 
where the evening gun had spoken ; the flag on the fort 
fluttered down, the flag on the battery followed. Out 
on the darkening river a lanthorn glimmered from the 
deck of the Jersey; a light sparkled on Paulus Hook. 

“ Hark ! hear the drums ! ” she murmured. Far 
down Broadway the British drums sounded, nearer, 
nearer, now loud along Dock Street, now lost in Queen, 
then swinging west by north they came up Broad, into 
Wall; and I could hear the fifes shrilling out, “The 
World turned Upside-down,” and the measured tread 
of the patrol, marching to the Upper Barracks and the 
Prison. 

The drummers wheeled into Broadway beneath our 
windows ; leaning over I saw them pass, and I was aware 
of something else, too — a great strapping figure in a 
drover’s smock, watching the British drums from the 
side path across the way — my friend of Nassau Street 
— and clinging to his arm, a little withered man, 
wrinkled, mild-eyed, clad also like a drover, and snap- 
ping his bull-whip to accent the rhythm of the rolling 
drums. 

“ I think I shall go down,” said a soft voice beside 


THE SPY 


\ 


me ; “ pray do not move, Mr. Renault, you are so pic- 
turesque in silhouette against the sunset — and I hear 
that silhouettes are so fashionable in New York fop- 
dom.” 

I bowed; she held out her hand — just a trifle, as 
she passed me, the gesture of a coquette or of per- 
fect innocence — and I touched it lightly with finger-tip 
and lip. 

“ Until supper,” she said — ‘‘ and, Mr. Renault, do 
you suppose we shall have bread for supper ? ” 

“ Why not.P ” I asked, all unsuspicious. 

“ Because I fancied flour might be scarce in New 
York ” — she glanced at my unpowdered head, then fled, 
her blue eyes full of laughter. 

It is true that all hair powder is made of flour, but 
I did not use it like a Hessian. And I looked after 
her with an uncertain smile and with a respect born 
of experience and grave uncertainty. 


^3 


CHAPTER II 


THE HOUSEHOLD 

About dusk Sir Peter arrived from lower West- 
chester while I was dressing. Warned by the rattle 
of wheels from the coach-house at the foot of the gar- 
den, and peering through the curtains, I saw the lamps 
shining and heard the trample of our horses on the 
stable floor; and presently, as I expected. Sir Peter 
came a-knocking at my door, and my servant left the 
dressing of my hair to admit the master of the house. 
He came in, his handsome face radiant — a tall, grace- 
ful man of forty, clothed with that elegant carelessness 
which we call perfection, so strikingly unobtrusive was 
his dress, so faultless and unstudied his bearing. 

There was no dust upon him, though he had driven 
miles ; his clean skin was cool and pleasantly tinted with 
the sun of summer, spotless his lace at cuff and throat, 
and the buckles flashed at stock and knee and shoe as 
he passed through the candle-light to lay a familiar 
hand upon my shoulder. 

“ What’s new. Cams ? ” he asked, and his voice had 
ever that pleasant undertone of laughter Avhich en- 
dears. “ You villain, have you been making love to 
Elsin Grey, that she should come babbling of Mr. Re- 
nault, Mr. Renault, Mr. Renault ere I had set foot in 
24 ) 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


my own hallway? It was indecent, I tell you — not a 
word for me, civil or otherwise, not a question how I 
had ’scaped the Skinners at Kingsbridge — only a flut- 
ter of ribbons and a pair of pretty hands to kiss, and 
‘ Oh, Cousin Coleville ! Is Mr. Renault kin to me, 
too? — for I so take it, having freely bantered him to 
advantage at first acquaintance. Was I bold, cousin? 
— but if you only knew how he tempted me — and he 
is kin to you, is he not.P — and you are Cousin Betty’s 
husband.’ ‘ God-a-mercy ! ’ said I, ‘ what’s all this 
about Mr. Renault — a rogue and a villain I shame to 
claim as kin, a swaggering, diceing, cock-fighting ruf- 
fler, a-raking it from the Out-Ward to Jew Street! Ma- 
dam, do you dare admit to me that you have found 
aught to attract you in the company of this monument 
of foppery known as Cams Renault ? ’ ” 

“Did you truly say that. Sir Peter?” I asked, 
wincing while my ears grew hot. 

“ Say it ? I did not say it, I bellowed it 1 ” He 
shrugged his shoulders and took snuff with an air. 
“ The minx finds you agreeable,” he observed ; “ why ? 
— God knows I ” 

“ I had not thought so,” I said, in modest depreca- 
tion, yet warming at his words. 

“ Oh — had not thought so ! ” he mimicked, mincing 
over to the dressing-table and surveying the array of 
perfumes and pomades and curling irons. “ Cams, 
you shameless rake, you’ve robbed all Queen Street ! 
Essence, pomade-de-grasse, almond paste, bergamot, 
orange, French powder! By Heaven, man, do you 
to take the lady by storm or set up a rival shop 
25 


mean 


THE RECKONING 


to Smith’s ‘ Sign of the Rose ’ ? Here, have jour man 
leave those two puffs above the ears ; curl them loosely 
— that’s it! Now tie that queue-ribbon soberly; leave 
the flamboyant papillon style to those damned Lafay- 
ettes and Rochambeaux I Now dust your master, Den- 
nis, and fetch a muslinet waistcoat — the silver tambour 
one. Gad, Cams, I’d make a monstrous fine success at 
decorating fops for a guinea a head — eh.? ” 

He inspected me through his quizzing glass, nodded, 
backed away in feigned rapture, and presently sat down 
by the window, stretching his well-shaped legs. 

“ Damme,” he said, “ I meant to ask what’s new, 
but you chatter on so that I have no chance for a 
word edgeways. Now, what the devil is new with 
you.? ” 

“ Nothing remarkable,” I said, laughing. “ Did 
you come to terms with Mr. Rutgers for his meadows.? ” 

“ No,” he replied irritably, “ and I care nothing for 
his damned swamps full of briers and mud and wood- 
cock.” 

“ It is just as well,” I said. “ You can not afford 
more land at present.” 

“ That’s true,” he admitted cheerfully ; “ I’m spend- 
ing too much. Gad, Carus, the Fifty-fourth took it 
out of us at that thousand-guinea main! Which re- 
minds me to say that our birds at Flatbush are in prime 
condition and I’ve matched them.” 

I looked up at him doubtfully. Our birds had 
brought him nothing but trouble so far. 

“ Let it pass,” he said, noticing my silent disap- 
proval ; “ we’ll talk to Horrock in the morning. Which 
S6 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


reminds me that I have no money.” He laughed, drew 
a paper from his coat, and unfolding it, read aloud: 

1 pipe Madeira @ £90 per pipe — £90 
1 pipe Port @ £46 per pipe — £46 

20 gallons Fayal @ 5s. per gal. — 

20 gallons Lisbon @ 5s. per gal. — 

10 gallons Windward I. rum @ 4s. per gal.” 

He yawned and tossed the paper on my dresser, 
saying, “ Pay it. Cams. If our birds win the main 
we’ll put the Forty-fifth under the table, and I’ll pay 
a few debts.” 

Standing there he stretched to his full graceful 
height, yawning once or twice. “ I’ll go bathe, and 
dress for supper,” he said ; “ that should freshen me. 
Shall we rake it to-night.? ” 

“ I’m for cards,” I said carelessly. * 

“ With Elsin Grey or without Elsin Grey ? ” he in- 
quired in affected earnestness. 

“ If you had witnessed her treatment of me,” I re- 
torted, “ you’d never mistake it for friendly interest. 
We’ll rake it, if you like. There’s another frolic at the 
John Street Theater. The Engineers play ‘ The Con- 
scious Lovers,’ and Rosamund Barry sings ‘ Vain is 
Beauty’s Gaudy Flower.’ ” 

But he said he had no mind for the Theater 
Royal that night, and presently left me to Dennis and 
the mirror. 

In the mirror I saw a boyish youth of twenty-three, 
dark-eyed, somewhat lean of feature, and tinted with 
that olive smoothness of skin inherited from the Rcnaults 
27 


THE RECKONING 


through my great-grandfather — a face which in repose 
was a trifle worn, not handsome, but clearly cut, though 
not otherwise remarkable. It was, I believed, neither 
an evil nor a sullen brooding face, nor yet a face in 
which virtue molds each pleasing feature so that its 
goodness is patent to the world. 

Dennis having ended his ministrations, I pinned a 
brilliant at my throat — a gift from Lady Coleville — 
and shook over it the cobweb lace so it should sparkle 
like a star through a thin cloud. Then passing my 
small sword through the embroidered slashing of my 
coat, and choosing a handkerchief discreetly perfumed, 
I regarded myself at ease, thinking of Elsin Grey. 

In the light of later customs and fashions I fear 
that I was something of a fop, though I carried neither 
spy-glass nor the two watches sacred to all fops. But 
if I loved dress, so did his Excellency, and John Han- 
cock, not to name a thousand better men than I; and 
while I confess that I did and do dearly love to cut a 
respectable figure, frippery for its own sake was not 
among my vices; but I hold him a hind who, if he can 
afford it, dresses not to please others and do justice 
to the figure that a generous Creator has so patiently 
fashioned. “To please others!” sang my French 
blood within me ; “ to please myself ! ” echoed my Eng- 
lish blood — and so, betwixt the sanguine tides, I was 
minded to please in one way or another, nor thought it 
a desire unworthy. One thing did distress me: what 
with sending all my salary to the prisons, I had no 
money left to bet as gentlemen bet, nor to back a well- 
heeled bird, nor to color my fancy for a horse. As 
28 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


for a mistress, or for thpse fugitive affairs of the heart 
which English fashion countenanced — nay, on which 
fashion insisted — I had no part in them, and brooked 
much banter from the gay world in consequence. It 
was not merely lack of money, nor yet a certain fas- 
tidiousness implanted, nor yet the inherent shrinking 
of my English blood from pleasure forbidden, for my 
Renault blood was hot enough, God wot ! It was, I 
think, all of these reasons that kept me untainted, and 
another, the vague idea of a woman, somewhere in the 
world, who should be worth an unsullied love — worth 
far more than the best I might bring to her one day. 
And so my pride refused to place me in debt to a woman 
whom I had never known. 

As for money, I had my salary when it was con- 
venient for Sir Peter; I had a small income of my own, 
long pledged to Colonel Willett’s secret uses. It was 
understood that Sir Peter should find me in apparel; I 
had credit at Sir Peter’s tailor, and at his hatter’s and 
bootmaker’s, too. Twice a year my father sent me from 
Paris a sum which was engaged to maintain a bed or 
two in the Albany hospital for our soldiers. I make no 
merit of it, for others gave more. So, it is plain to see 
I had no money for those fashionable vices in the midst 
of which I lived, and if I lost five shillings at whist I 
felt that I had robbed some wretched creature on the 
Jersey^ or dashed the cup from some poor devil’s lips 
who lay a-gasping in the city prison. 

My finery, then, was part and parcel of my salary — 
my salary in guineas already allotted ; so it came about 
that I moved in a loose and cynical society, untainted 
4 29 


THE RECKONING 


only through force of circumstance and a pride that 
accepts nothing which it may not return at interest. 

When I descended to the dining-room I found all 
seated, and so asked pardon of Lady Coleville, who was 
gay and amiable as usual, and, “ for a penance,” as she 
said, made me sit beside her. That was no penance, 
for she was a beauty and a wit, her dainty head swim- 
ming with harmless mischief ; and besides knowing me 
as she did, she was monstrous amusing in a daring yet 
delicate fashion, which she might not use with any other 
save her husband. 

That, as I say, was therefore no penance, but my 
punishment was to see Elsin Grey far across the table 
on Sir Peter’s right, and to find in my other neighbor 
a lady whose sole delight in me was to alternately shock 
me with broad pleasantries and torment me with my 
innocence. 

Rosamund Barry was her name. Captain Barry’s 
widow-— he who fell at Breeds Hill in ’76 — the face of 
a Madonna, and the wicked wit of a lady whose name 
she bore, sans La du. 

“ Cams,” she said, leaning too near me and waving 
her satin painted fan, “ is it true you have deserted 
me for a fairer conquest.^ ” 

“ The rumor nails itself to the pillory,” I said ; 
“ who is fairer than you, Rosamund ? ” 

“ You beg the question,” she said severely, the while 
her dark eyes danced a devil’s shadow dance ; “ if you 
dare go tiptoeing around the skirts of the Hon. INIiss 
Grey, I’ll tell her all — ally mind you ! ” 

SO 



My punishment 


was to see Elsin Grey far across 
the table. 




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THE HOUSEHOLD 


“ Don’t do that,” I said, “ unless you mean to leave 
New York.” 

“ All about you^ silly ! ” she said, flushing in spite 
of her placid smile. 

“ Oh,” I said, with an air of great relief, “ I was 
sure you could not contemplate confession ! ” 

She laid her pretty head on one side. “ I wonder,” 
she mused, eying me deliberately — “ I wonder what this 
new insolence of yours might indicate. Is it rebellion? 
Has the worm turned? ” 

“ The worm has turned — into a frivolous butterfly,” 
I said gaily. 

“ I don’t believe it,” she said. “ Let me see if I 
can make you blush, Carus ! ” And she leaned nearer, 
whispering behind her fan. 

“ Let me match that ! ” I said coolly. ‘‘ Lend me 
your fan, Rosamund ” 

“ Carus ! ” exclaimed Lady Coleville, “ stop it ! 
Mercy on us, such shameless billing and cooing! Cap- 
tain O’Neil, call him out I ” 

“ Faith,” said O’Neil, ‘‘ to call is wan thing, and 
the chune Mrs. Barry sings is another. Take shame, 
Carus Renault, ye blatherin’, bould inthriguer! L’ave 
innocence to yer betthers 1 ” 

“ To me, for example,” observed Captain Hark- 
ness complacently. Mrs. Barry knows that raking 
fellow, Carus, and she knows you, too, you wild Irish- 
man ” 

“If you only keep this up long enough, gentle- 
men,” I said, striving to smile, “ you’ll end by doing 
what I’ve so far avoided.” 

31 


THE RECKONING 


“ Ruining his reputation in Miss Grey’s eyes,” ex- 
plained Lady Coleville pleasantly. 

Elsin Grey looked calmly across at me, saying to 
Sir Peter, “ He is too young to do such things, isn’t 
he.? ” 

That set them into fits of laughter. Sir Peter begging 
me to pause in my mad career and consider the chief 
end of man, and Tully O’Neil generously promising 
moral advice and the spiritual support of Rosamund 
Barry, which immediately diverted attention from me 
to a lightning duel of words between Rosamund and 
O’Neil — parry and thrust, innuendo and eloquent si- 
lence, until Lady Coleville in pantomime knocked up the 
crossed blades of wit, and Sir Peter vowed that this 
was no place for an innocent married man. 

When Lady Coleville rose we drew our swords and 
arched a way for her, and she picked up her silken pet- 
ticoat and ran under, laughing, one hand pressed to her 
ears to shut out the cheers. 

There were long black Spanish cigars, horribly 
strong, served with spirits after the ladies had left. 
O’Neil and Harkness used them; Sir Peter and I ac- 
cepted the long cool pipes, and we settled for a com- 
fortable smoke. 

Sir Peter spoke of the coming cock-fight with char- 
acteristic optimism — not shared by Harkness, and but 
partially approved by O’Neil. Details were solemnly 
discussed, questions of proper heeling, of silver and steel 
gaffs, of comb and wattle cutting, of the texture of 
feather and hackle, and of the “ walks ” at Flatbush 
and Horrock’s method of feeding in the dark. 

32 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


Tiring of the subject, Harkness spoke of the po- 
litical outlook and took a gloomy view, paying his 
Excellency a compliment by referring to him as “ no 
fox, but a full-grown wolf, with an appetite for a con- 
tinent and perhaps for a hemisphere.” 

“ Pooh ! ” said Sir Peter, lazily sucking at his pipe, 
“ Sir Henry has him holed. We’ll dig him out before 
snow flies.” 

“ What folly. Sir Peter ! ” remonstrated Harkness, 
leaning forward so that the candle-light blazed on his 
gold and scarlet coat. “ Look back five years. Sir Peter, 
then survey the damnable situation now! Do you real- 
ize that to-day England governs but one city in 
America.? ” 

“ Wait,” observed Sir Peter serenely, expelling a 
cloud of smoke so that it wreathed his handsome head 
in a triple halo. 

“ Wait.? Faith, if there’s annything else to do but 
wait I’ll take that job!” exclaimed O’Neil ruefully. 

“ Why don’t you take it, then .? ” retorted Sir Peter. 
“ It’s no secret, I fancy — that plan of Walter Butler’s 
— is it.? ” he added, seeing that we knew nothing of 
any plan. 

“ Sir Henry makes no secret of it,” he continued ; 
“ it’s talked over and disparaged openly at mess and 
at headquarters. I can see no indiscretion in mention- 
ing it here.” 

It was at such moments that I felt a loathing for 
myself, and such strong self-disgust must surely have 
prevailed in the end to make me false to duty if, as I 
have said, I had not an absolute faith that his Excel- 
33 


THE RECKONING 


lency required no man to tarnish his honor for the 
motherland’s salvation. 

“ What’s afoot ? ” inquired Harkness curiously. 

“ Why, you remember how the rebel General Sulli- 
van went through the Six Nations, devastating the 
Iroquois country, laying waste, burning, destroying 
their orchards and crops — which, after all, accomplished 
the complete destruction of our own granary in the 
North? ” 

“ ’Twas a dhirty thrick ! ” muttered O’Neil. “ Sure, 
’tis the poor naked haythen will pay that score wan 
day, or I’m a Hessian ! ” 

“ They’ll pay it soon if Walter Butler has his way,” 
said Sir Peter. “ Sir John Johnson and the Butlers 
and Colonel Ross are gathering in the North. Haldi- 
mand’s plan is to strike at the rebels’ food supply — the 
cultivated region from Johnstown south and west — do 
what Sullivan did, lay waste the rebel grain belt, burn 
fodder, destroy all orchards — God ! it will go hard with 
the frontier again.” He swung around to Harkness: 

It’s horrible to me. Captain — and Walter Butler not 
yet washed clean of the blood of Cherry Valley. I tell 
you, loyal as I am, humble subject of my King, whom 
I reverence, I affirm that this blackened, blood-soaked 
frontier is a barrier to England which she can never, 
never overcome, and though we win out to-day, and 
though we hang the rebels thick as pears in Lispenard’s 
orchards, that barrier will remain, year by year fen- 
cing us in, crowding us back to the ocean, to our ships, 
back to the land from whence we English came. And 
for all time will the memory of these horrors set Amer- 
31 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


ica’s face against us — if not for all time, yet our chil- 
dren’s children and their children shall not outlive the 
tradition burned into the heart of this quivering land 
we hold to-day, half shackled, still struggling, already 
rising to its bleeding knees.” 

“ Gad ! ” breathed O’Neil, “ ’tis threason ye come 
singin’ to the chune o’ Yankee Doodle-doo, Sir Peter.” 

“ It’s sense,” said Sir Peter, already smiling at his 
own heat. 

“ So Ross and the Butlers are to strike at the rebel 
granaries?” repeated Harkness, musing. 

“Yes; they’re gathering on the eastern lakes 
and at Niagara — Butler’s Rangers, Johnson’s Greens, 
Brant’s Iroquois, some Jagers, a few regulars, and the 
usual partizan band of painted whites who disgrace us 
all, by Heaven! But there,” added Sir Peter, smiling, 
“ I’ve done with the vapors. I bear no arms, and it 
is unfit that I should judge those .who do. Only,” and 
his voice rang a little, “ I understand battles, not butch- 
ery. Gentlemen, to the British Army I the regulars, 
God bless ’em ! Bumpers, gentlemen 1 ” 

I heard O’Neil muttering, as he smacked his lips 
after the toast, “ And to hell with the Hessians I Bad 
cess to the Dootch scuts I ” 

“ Did you say the rendezvous is at Niagara? ” in- 
quired Harkness. 

“ I’ve heard so. I’ve heard, too, of some other spot 
— an Indian name — Thend — Thend — plague take it I 
Ah, I have it— Thendara. You know it. Cams?” he 
asked, turning so suddenly on me that my guilty heart 
ceased beating for a second. 


THE BECKONING 


“ I have heard of it,” I said, finding a voice scarce 
like my own. “ Where is it. Sir Peter ? ” 

“ Why, here in New York there has ever been a 
fable about a lost town in the wilderness called Then- 
dara. I never knew it to be true; but now they say 
that Walter Butler has assigned Thendara as his 
gathering place, or so it is reported in a letter to Sir 
Henry, which Sir Henry read to me. Have you no 
knowledge of it. Cams ^ ” 

“ None at all. I remember hearing the name in 
childhood. Perhaps better woodsmen than I know where 
this Thendara lies, but I do not.” 

“ It must lie somewhere betwixt us and Canada,” 
said Harkness vaguely. “ Does not Sir Henry 
know.? ” 

“ He said he did not,” replied Sir Peter, “ and he 
sent out a scout for information. No information has 
arrived. Is it an Iroquois word, Carus .? ” 

“ I think it is of Lenape origin,” I said — “ perhaps 
modified by the Mohawk tongue. I know it is not pure 
Oneida.” 

Harkness glanced at me curiously. “ You’d make 
a rare scout,” he said, “ with your knowledge of the 
barbarians.” 

“ The wonder is,” observed Sir Peter, “ that he is 
not a scout on the other side. If my home had been 
burned by the McDonalds and the Butlers, I’m damned 
if I should forget which side did it ! ” 

“ If I took service with the rebels,” said I, ‘‘ it would 
not be because of personal loss. Nor would that same 
private misfortune deter me from serving King George. 
36 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


The men who burned my home represent no great cause. 
When I have leisure I can satisfy personal quarrels.” 

“ Lord ! ” laughed Sir Peter, “ to hear you bewail 
your lack of leisure one might think you are now occu- 
pied with one cause or t’other. Pray, my dear Carus, 
when do you expect to find time to call out these enemies 
of yours ^ ” 

“ You wouldn’t have me deprive the King of Walter 
Butler’s services, would you ? ” I asked so gravely that 
everybody laughed, and we rose in good humor to join 
the ladies in the drawing-rooms. 

Sir Peter’s house on Wall Street had been English 
built, 3 ’^et bore certain traces of the old Dutch influence, 
for it had a stoop leading to the front door, and the 
roof was Dutch, save for the cupola; a fine wide house, 
the fa 9 ade a little scorched from the conflagration of 
’78 which had ruined Trinity Church and the Lutheran, 
and many fine buildings and homes. 

The house was divided by a wide hallway, on either 
side of which were drawing-rooms, and in the rear of 
these was a dining-room giving on a conservatory which 
overlooked the gardens. The ground floor served as a 
servant’s hall, with a door at the area and another in 
the rear leading out through the garden-drive to the 
stables. 

The floor above the drawing-rooms had been divided 
into two suites, one in gold leather and blue for Sir 
Peter and his lady, the other in crimson damask for 
guests. The third floor, mine, was similarly divided, 
I occupying the Wall Street side, with windows on that 
fashionable street and also on Broadway. 

87 


THE RECKONING 


Thus it happened that, instead of entering the south 
drawing-room where I saw the ladies at the card-table 
playing Pharaoh, I turned to the right and crossed the 
north, or “ state drawing-room,” and parted the cur- 
tains, looking across Broadway to see if I might spy my 
friend the drover and his withered little mate. No doubt 
prudence and a dislike for the patrol kept them off" 
Broadway at that hour, for I could not see them, al- 
though a few street lamps were lit and I could make 
out wayfarers as far north as Crown Street. 

Standing there in the dimly lighted room, my nose 
between the parted curtains, I heard my name pro- 
nounced very gently behind me, and, turning, beheld 
Miss Grey, half lying on a sofa in a distant corner. 

I had not seen her when I entered, my back being turned 
to the east, and I said so, asking pardon for an unin- 
tentional rudeness — ^which she pardoned with a smile, 
slowly waving her scented fan. 

“ I am a little tired,” she said ; “ the voyage from 
Halifax was rough, and I have small love for the sea, sg. 
Lady Coleville permitting, I came in here to rest from 
the voices and the glare of too bright candle-light. 
Pray you be seated, Mr. Renault — if it does not dis- 
please you. What were you looking for from the win- 
dow yonder.^ ” 

‘‘ Treason,” I said gaily. “ But the patrol should 
be able to see to that. May I sit here a moment ” 

“ Willingly ; I like men.” 

Innocence or coquetry, I was clean checked. Her 
white eyelids languidly closing over the pure eyes of a 
child gave me no clue. 


38 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


“ All men ? ” I inquired. 

“ How silly ! No, very few men. But that is be- 
cause I only know a few.” 

“ And may I dare to hope that — ” I began in 
stilted gallantry, cut short by her opening eyes and 
smile. “ Of course I like you, Mr. Renault. Can you 
not see that.? It’s a pity if you can not, as all the 
others tease me so about you. Do you like me.? ” 

“ Very, very much,” I replied, conscious of that 
accursed color burning my face again; conscious, too, 
that she noted it with calm curiosity. 

“ Very, very much,” she repeated, musing. “ Is 
that why you blush so often, Mr. Renault — because you 
like me very, very much.? ” 

Exasperated, I strove to smile. I couldn’t; and 
dignity would not serve me, either. 

“ If I loved you,” said I, “ I might change color 
when you spoke. Therefore my malady must arise from 
other causes — say from Sir Peter’s wine, for instance.” 
^ “I knew a man who fell in love with me,” she said. 
“ You may do so yet.” 

“ Do you think it likely .? ” I asked, scarcely know- 
ing how to meet this cool attack. 

I think it possible — don’t you.? ” she asked. 

I considered, or made pretense to. My heart had 
begun to beat too fast ; and as for her, I could no more 
fathom her than the sea, yet her babble was shallow 
enough to strand wiser men than I upon its sparkling 
shoals. 

“ I do like men,” she said thoughtfully, “ but not 
all men, as I said I did. Now at supper I looked about 
39 


THE RECKONING 


me and I found only you attractive, save Sir Peter, and 
he counts nothing in a game of hearts.” 

“ When you come to mingle with New York society 
you will, no doubt, find others far more attractive,” I 
said stupidly. 

“ No doubt. Still, in the interim ” — she looked 
straight at me from under her delicate level brows — in 
the meanwhile, will you not amuse me ? ” 

“ How, madam.'* ” 

“ I shall not tell you if you call me ‘ madam.’ ” 

“ Will the Hon. Elsin Grey inform me how I may 
amuse her ladyship ? ” 

“ Nor that, either.” 

I hesitated, then leaned nearer : ‘‘ How may I amuse 
you, Elsin ? ” 

“ Why, by courting me, silly ! ” she said, laughing, 
and spreading her silken fan. “ How else is a woman 
amused.^ ” 

Her smooth hand lay across the velvet arm of the 
sofa; I took it and raised it to my lips, and she smiled 
approval, then drew a languid little sigh, fanned, and 
vowed I was the boldest man she had ever known. 

I told her how exquisite her beauty was, I protested 
at her coldness, I dedicated myself to her service, vowing 
eternal constancy; and presently my elaborate expres- 
sions rang truer and grew more simple, and she with- 
drew her hand with a laugh, looking at me out of those 
beautiful eyes which now were touched with curiosity. 

“ For a jester, Carus, you are too earnest,” she said. 

“ Does pretense frighten you ? ” 

She regarded me, silent, smiling, her fan at her lips. 

40 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


“ You are playing with fire,” she said. 

“ Tell me, heart of flint, am I the steel to strike a 
spark from.^ ” I asked, laughing. 

“ I do not know yet of what metal you are made, 
Carus,” she said thoughtfully, yet with that dim smile 
hovering ever upon her lips. 

She dropped her fan and held up one finger. 
“ Listen ; let me read you. Here is my measure of such 
a man as you : First of all, generous ! — rlook at your 
mouth, which God first fashions, then leaves for us to 
make or mar. Second, your eyes — sincere! for though 
you blush like a maiden, Carus, your eyes are steady 
to the eyes that punish. Third, dogged! spite of the 
fierce impatience that sets your chiseled nose a-quiver 
at the nostrils. There! Am I not a very gipsy for 
a fortune Read me, now.” 

After a long silence I said, I can not.” 

“ Truly.? ” 

“ Truly. I can not read you, Elsin.” 

She opened her palm and held her fingers, one by one, 
frowning in an effort to be just: “ First, I am a fool; 
second, I am a fool ; third, I am a fool ; fourth ” 

I caught her hand, and she looked at me with a 
charming laugh. 

“ I aw,” she insisted, her hand resting in mine. 

“ Why.? ” 

‘‘ Why, because I — I am in love with Walter Butler 
— and — and I never liked a man as well as I like you ! ” 

I was astounded. She sighed, slowly shaking her 
head. “ That is it, you see. Love is very different from 
having a good time. He i^ so proud, so sad, so buried 
41 


THE RECKONING 


in noble melancholy, so darkly handsome, and all afire 
with passion — which advances him not a whit with me 
nor commends him to my mercy — only when he stands 
before me, his dark golden eyes lost in delicious melan- 
choly; then, then, Carus, I know that it must be love 
I feel; but it is not a very cheerful sentiment.” She 
sighed again, picking up her fan with one hand — I held 
the other. 

“ Now, with you — and I have scarce known you a 
dozen hours — it is so charming, so pleasant and cheer- 
ful — and I like you so much, Carus ! — oh, the sentiment 
I entertain for you is far pleasanter than love. Have 
you ever been in love.?^ ” 

“ I am, Elsin — almost.” 

“ Almost .P Mercy on us! What will the lady say 
to ‘ almost ’ ? ” 

“ God knows,” I said, smiling. 

“ Good 1 ” she said approvingly ; ‘‘ leave her in God’s 
care, and practise on me to perfect your courtship. I 
like it, really I do. It is strange, too,” she mused, 
with a tender smile of reminiscence, “for I have never 
let Captain Butler so much as touch my hand. But 
discretion, you see, is love; isn’t it? So if I am so 
indiscreet with you, w^hat harm is there 

“ Are you unhappy away from him.? ” I asked. 

“ No, only when with him. He seems to wring my 
heart — I don’t know why, but, oh, I do so pity him ! ” 

“ Are you — plighted.? ” 

“Oh, dear me, yes— but secretly. Ah, I should 
not have told you that ! — but there you are, Carus ; and 
I do believe that I could tell you everything I know if 

n 


THE HOUSEHOLD 


our acquaintance endures but twelve more hours. And 
that^'^ she added, considering me calmly, “ is rather 
strange, I think. Don’t you.^ ” 

Ere I could reply came Sir Peter, talking loudly, 
protesting that it was a monstrous shame for me to steal 
away their guest, that I was a villain and all knew it, 
he himself best of all ; and without more ado he tucked 
her arm under his and marched triumphantly away, 
leaving me there alone in the deserted room. 

But as Elsin gained the door she turned, looking 
back, and, laying her hand upon her lips, threw me a 
kiss behind Sir Peter’s shoulders. 


4B 


CHAPTER III 


THE COQ d’or 

The days that followed were brilliant links in a 
fierce sequence of gaiety ; and this though the weather 
was so hot that the very candles in their sconces 
drooped, dripping their melted wax on egrette and lace, 
scarlet coat and scarf. A sort of midsummer madness 
attacked the city ; we danced in the hot moonlit nights, 
we drove at noontide, with the sun flaring in a sky of 
sapphire, we boated on the Bronx, we galloped out to 
the lines, escorted by a troop of horse, to see the Con- 
tinental outposts beyond Tarrytown — so bold they had 
become, and no “ skinners,” either, but scouts of Heath, 
blue dragons if our glasses lied not, well horsed, newly 
saddled, holsters of bearskin, musket on thigh, and the 
July sun a-flashing on crested helmet and crossed sling- 
buckles. And how my heart drummed and the red blood 
leaped in me to beat in neck and temple, at sight of 
my own comrades! And how I envied them, free to 
ride erect and proud in the light of day, harnessed for 
battle, flying no false colors for concealment — all fair 
and clean and aboveboard I And I a spy I 

We were gay, I say, and the town had gone mid- 
summer mad of its own fancy — a fevered, convulsive re- 
action from a strain too long endured; and while the 


THE COQ D OR 


outlook for the King was no whit better here, and much 
worse in the South, yet, as it was not yet desperate, the 
garrison, the commander, and the Governor made a vir- 
tue of necessity, and, rousing from the pent inertia of 
the dreadful winter and shaking off the lethargy of 
spring, paced their cage with a restlessness that quick- 
ened to a mania for some relief in the mad distraction 
of folly and frivolity. 

And first. Sir Peter gave a ball at our house in honor 
of Elsin Grey, and we danced in the state drawing- 
room, and in the hallway, and in the south drawing- 
room, and Sir Henry walked a minuet with the Hon. 
Elsin Grey, and I had her to wine and later in a West- 
chester reel. Too much punch was drunk, iced, which 
is a deadly thing, and worse still when the foundation 
is laid in oranged tea ! Too many officers, too many 
women, and all so hot, so suffocating, that the red ran 
from lip and cheek, streaking the face-powder, and the 
bare enameled shoulders of the women were frosted with 
perspiration like dew on wet roses. 

That was the first frolic given in her honor, fol- 
lowed by that wild dance at the Governor’s, where the 
thickets of clustered candles drooped like lilies afire, and 
great islands of ice melted in the punch-bowls ere they 
had been emptied a third. And yet the summer mad- 
ness continued; by day we drove in couples, in Italian 
chaises, or made cherry-parties to Long Island, or sailed 
the bay to the Narrows, or played rustic and fished in 
the bay ; afj night we danced, danced, danced, and I saw 
little of Elsin Grey save through a blaze of candle- 
light to move a minuet with her, to press her hand in 
k 45 


THE RECKONING 


a reel, or to conduct her to some garden pavilion where 
servants waited with ices amid a thirsty, breathless, 
jostling throng. 

The heat abated nothing; so terrible w^as it in the 
city that spite of the shade afforded by elm, lime, and 
honey-locust, men and horses were stricken on the 
streets, and the Tea Water ran low, and the Collect, 
where it flovrs out into a stream, dried up, and Mr. Rut- 
ger’s swamps stank. Also, as was noted by men like 
me, who, country-bred, concern themselves with trifles, 
the wild birds which haunted the trees in street and 
lane sang no more, and I saw at times Lord Baltimore’s 
orioles and hedge-birds, beaks open, eyes partly closed, 
panting from the sun, so fierce it beat upon us in New 
York that summertide. 

As for the main Sir Peter had meant to fight with 
his Flatbush birds, we tried a shake-bag, stags, which, 
though fairly matched and handled by past masters, 
billed and pecked and panted without a blow from wing 
or spur, till we understood that the heat had stunned 
them, and so gave up to wait for cooler sport. 

We waited, but not in idleness ; the cage-fever drove 
us afield, and the De Lanceys had us to the house for 
bowls and cricket, which the ladies joined, spoiling it 
somewhat for my taste; and we played golf at Mr. Lis- 
penard’s, which presently lost all charm for me, as 
Elsin Grey remained at the pavilion and touched no 
club, neither wood nor iron, save to beat the devil’s 
tattoo upon the grass and smile into the bold eyes of 
Captain O’Neil. 

At Rivington’s wc found tennis, too, and good 

46 


THE COQ D OR 


rackets, and I played one whole morning with Elsin 
Grey, nor wearied of her delight that she beat me 
easily ; though why I permitted it and why her victory 
,gave me pleasure is more than I can comprehend, I al- 
ways desiring to appear well in trials of skill at which 
it is a shame for gentlemen not to excel, and not un- 
gallant to do one’s best with ladies to oppose. 

Every Tuesday, at Bayard’s Hill near the pump, a 
bull was baited ; but that bloody sport, and the match- 
ing of dogs, was never to my taste, although respectable 
gentlemen of fashion attended. 

However, there was racing at many places — at New- 
market on Salisbury plain, and at Jamaica; also Mr. 
Lispenard had a fine course at Greenwich village, near 
the country house of Admiral Warren, and Mr. De 
Lancey another between First and Second streets, near 
the Bowery Lane ; but mostly we drove to Mr. Rutger’s 
to see the running horses ; and I was ashamed not to bet 
when Elsin Grey provoked me with her bantering chal- 
lenge to a wager, laying bets under my nose; but I 
could not risk money and remember how every penny 
saved meant to some pnsoner aboard the Jersey more 
than a drop of water to a soul in torment. 

And how it hurt me — I who love to please, and who 
adore in others that high disregard of expense that I 
dared noV never disregard ! And to appear poor- 
spirited in her eyes, too! and to see the others stare 
at times, and to be aware of quiet glances exchanged, 
and of meaning eyes ! 

It was late in July that the cooling change came — 
a delicious breath from the Narrows blowing steady as 

47 


THE RECKONING 


a trade; and the change having been predicted a week 
since by Venus, a negro wench of Lady Coleville’s, Sir 
Peter had wisely taken precaution to send word to Hor- 
rock in Flatbush; and now the main was to be fought 
at the cockpit in Great George Street, at the French- 
man’s “ Coq d’Or,” a tavern maintained most jealously 
by the garrison’s officers, and most exclusive though 
scarce decent in a moral sense, it being notorious for 
certain affairs in which even the formality of Gretna 
Green was dispensed with. 

Many a daintily cloaked figure stole, masked, to the 
rendezvous in the garden under the cherry-trees, and 
many a duel was fought in the pleasant meadows to the 
south which we called Vauxhall; and there I have seen 
silent men waiting at dawn, playing with the coffee they 
scarce could swallow, while their seconds paced the path 
beyond the stile, whistling reflectively, switching the 
wild roses, with a watchful eye for the coming party. 

But now, concerning that cocking-main at the Coq 
d’Or, and how it came about. The day was to be a 
merry one. Lady Coleville and Elsin Grey sleeping until 
afternoon from the dissipation of the dance at the As- 
sembly, which lasted until the breakfast hour ; Sir Peter, 
Captains Harkness and O’Neil, and I to see the main 
in the morning, lunch at the tavern, and return to rest 
until time to dress for the great ball and supper given 
by the officers of the artillery at Fort George. 

The day, the 28th of July, broke cloudless and 
sweetly cool. Dressing, I saw the jack flying straight 
in the sea-wind and a schooner in the North River 
heeled over and scudding south, with a white necklace 
48 


THE COQ D OR 


of foam trailing from her sprit back along half her 
water-line. 

Sir Peter, in riding-boots and coat, came in high 
spirits to drink a morning cup with me, saying his 
birds had arrived and Horrock had gone forward with 
them, and that we must bolt breakfast and mount, for 
the Fifty-fourth’s officers were early risers, and we 
should not detain them. And so he chattered on, joy- 
ously, pacing my chamber while Dennis buckled my 
spurs. 

At breakfast we bolted what was set before us, with 
many a glance through the windows where, in the gar- 
den drive, our horses stood saddled in the shade of an 
elm, a black at each bit, and the whole stable-force out, 
all a-grinning to wish the master luck of his Flatbush 
birds and the main to boot. 

“ Cams,” said Sir Peter, fork poised, glass in hand, 
“ it’s a thousand on the main, a hundred on each battle, 
and I must win. You know that! ” 

I knew it only too well and said so, speaking cheer- 
fully yet seriously of his affairs, which had become so 
complicated since the closer blockade of the city. But he 
was ever gaily impatient of details and of pounds and 
pence. Accounts he utterly refused to audit, leaving it 
to me to pay his debts, patch up gaps left by depreciated 
securities, and find a fortune to maintain him and his 
wife in the style which, God knows, befitted him, but 
which he could no longer properly afford. And when 
it came to providing money to fling from race-track to 
cockpit, and from coffee-house to card-room, I told 
him plainly he had none, which made him laugh and 
49 


THE RECKONING 


swear and vow I was treating him most shabbily. And 
it was no use; he would have his pin-money, and I must 
sell or pledge or borrow, at an interest most villainous, 
from the thrifty folk in Duke Street. 

So now, when I offered to discuss the danger of ex- 
travagance, he swore he would not have a day’s pleasure 
ruined by a sermon, and presently we rose and went into 
the garden to mount, and I saw Sir Peter distributing 
silver among the servants, so that all could share the 
pleasure and lay wagers among their kind for the honor 
of the Flatbush birds and the master who bred them. 

“ Come, Cams,” he sang out from his saddle, and I 
followed him at a gallop out into Broadway and up the 
street, keeping under the shade of the trees to save our 
horses, though the air was cool and we had not far to go. 

Presently he drew bridle, and we walked our horses 
past Partition Street, past Barckley, and the common, 
where I glanced askance at the ominous row of the three 
dread buildings, the Bridewell, the Almshouse, the 
Prison, with the Provost’s gallows standing always 
ready between ; and it brought sullen thoughts to me 
which four years of patience could not crush; nor had 
all these years of inaction dulled the fierce spark that 
flashed to fire within me when I looked up at the barred 
windows and at the sentinels, and thought of mine own 
people rotting there, and of Mr. Cunningham, the Prov- 
ost, whom hell should one day be the worse for. 

‘‘ Is aught amiss, Carus ? ” asked Sir Peter, catching 
my eye. 

“ Yes, the cruelty practised yonder ! ” I blurted out. 
Never before had I said as much to any man. 

50 


THE COQ DVR 


‘‘ You mean the debtors — or those above in the 
chain-room? ” he asked, surprised. 

“ I was not speaking of the Bridewell, but of the 
Prison,” I said. 

“What cruelty, Carus? You mean the rigor Cun- 
ningham uses? ” 

“ Rigor ! ” I said, laughing, and my laugh was 
unpleasant. 

He looked at me narrowly. We rode past Warren 
Street and the Upper Barracks in silence, saluting an 
officer here and there with preoccupied punctiliousness. 
Already I was repenting of my hardiness in mixing 
openly with politics or war — matters I had ever avoided 
or let pass with gay indifference. 

“ Carus,” he said, patting his horse’s mane, “ you 
will lay a bet for the honor of the family this time — 
will you not? ” 

“ I have no money,” I replied, surprised ; for never 
before had he offered to suggest an interference into 
my own affairs — never by word or look. 

“No money ! ” he repeated, laughing. “ Gad, you 
rake, what do you do with it all? ” .And as I continued 
silent, he said more gravely, “ May I speak plainly to 
a kinsman and dear friend? ” 

“ Always,” I said uneasily. 

“ Then, without offense, Carus, I think that, were I 
you, I should bet a little — now and again — fling the guin- 
eas for a change — now and then — if I were you, Carus.” 

“ If you were I you would not,” I said, reddening 
to the temples. 

“ I think I should, nevertheless,” he persisted, smi- 

51 


THE RECKONING 


ling. “ Cams, you know that if you need money to 
bet with ” 

“ I’ll tell you what I need, Sir Peter,” said I, look- 
ing him in the eye. “ I need your faith in me that I 
am not by choice a niggard.” 

“ God forbid ! ” he cried. 

“ Yet I pass among many for that,” I said hotly. 
“ I know it, I suffer. Yet I can not bum a penny; it 
belongs to others, that’s all.” 

“ A debt ! ” he murmured. 

“ Call it as you will. The money you overpay me 
for my poor services is not even my own to enjoy.” 

Sir Peter dropped his bridle and slapped his gloved 
hands together with a noise that made his horse jump. 
“ I knew it,” he cried, “ I knew it, and so I told Elsin 
when she came to me, troubled, because in you this one 
flaw appeared; yet though she questioned me, in the 
same breath she vowed the marble perfect, and asked 
me if you had parents or kin dependent. She is a rare 
maid, my pretty kinswoman — ” He hesitated, glan- 
cing cornerwise at me. 

“Do you know Walter Butler well.?” I asked 
carelessly. 

“No, only a little. Why, Cams.?” 

“ Is he married .? ” 

“ I never heard it. He is scarcely known to me 
save through Sir John Johnson, and that his zeal led 
him to what some call a private reprisal.” 

“ Yes, he burned our house, or his Indians did, 
making pretense that they did not know who lived 
there, but thought the whole Bush a rebel hotbed. It 
52 


THE COQ HOR 


is true the house was new, built while Sir John lay 
brooding there in Canada over his broken parole. Per- 
haps Walter Butler did not know the house was ours.” 

“ You are very generous, Carus,” said Sir Peter 
gravely. 

“ No, not very. You see, my father and my mother 
were in France, and I here, and Butler’s raiders only 
murdered one old man — a servant, all alone there, a 
man too old and deaf to understand their questions. I 
know who slew that ancient body-servant to my father, 
who often held me on his knees. No, Sir Peter, I am 
not generous, as you say. But there are^ matters which 
must await the precedence of great events ere their turn 
comes in the mills which grind so slow, so sure, and so 
exceeding fine.” 

Sir Peter looked at me in silence, and in silence we 
rode on until we came to the tavern called the Coq d’Or. 

They were there, the early risers of the Fifty-fourth 
— a jolly, noisy crowd, all scarlet and gold; and they 
set up a cheer, which was half welcome, half defiance, 
when we rode into the tavern yard and dismounted, 
bowing right and left ; and the landlord came to receive 
us, and servants followed with champagne-cup, iced; and 
there was old Horrock, too, hat in hand, to attend Sir 
Peter, with a shake of his wise old head and a smile 
on his furrowetj face — Horrock, the prince of handlers, 
with his chicken-men, and his scales, and his Flatbush 
birds a-crowing defiance to the duck-wings, spangles, 
pyles, and Lord knows what, that his Majesty’s Fifty- 
fourth Regiment of Foot had backed to win with every 
penny and farthing they could scrape to lay against us. 

53 


THE RECKONING 


I heard old Horrock whisper to Sir Peter, who was 
reading ov^r the match-list, “ They’re the best w^e can 
do, sir ; combs low-cut, wings rounded, hackle and saddle 
trimmed to a T, and the vanes perfect.” He laughed: 
“ What more can I do, sir ? They had aniseed in 
their bread on the third day, and on the weighing- 
day sheep-heart, and not two teacups of water in the 
seven. They came from the walks in prime condition, 
and tartar and jalap did the rest. They sparred 
free in the boots and took to the warm ale and sweet- 
wort, and the rooms were dark except at feeding. 
What more can I do, sir, except heel them to a hair’s- 
breadth ? ” 

“ You have no peer, Horrock, and you know it,” 
said Sir Peter, kindly, and the old man’s furrowed face 
shone as he trotted off to the covert-room. 

Meanwhile I had been hailed by a dozen friends of 
a dozen different regiments, good fellows all: Major 
Jamison of the Partisans ; Ensign Halvar, young Caryl 
of the Fortieth Foot; Helsing of the Artillery, and 
apparently every available commissioned officer of the 
Fifty-fourth, including Colonel Eyre, a gentleman 
with a scientific taste for the pit that gained him the 
title of “ The Game ’Un ” from saucy subalterns, need- 
less to say without his knowledge. 

“ A good bird, well handled, freely, backed — wffiat 
more can a gentleman ask.? ” said Major Neville, wad- 
dling beside Sir Peter as we filed into the tavern. “ My 
wife calls it a sharAeful sport, but the cockpit is a 
fashionable passion, damme! and a man out o’ fashion 
is worse than an addled cluck-egg! Eh, Renault.? 
54 


THE COQ D OR 


Good gad, sir! Do not cocks fight unurged, and are 
not their battles with nature’s spurs more cruel than 
when matched by man and heeled with steel or even 
silver, which mercifully ends the combat in short order? 
And so I tell my wife. Sir Peter, but she calls me brute,” 
he panted plaintively. 

“ Pooh ! ” said Sir Peter, laughing, “ I can always 
find a reason for any transgression in the list from theft 
to murder, and justify each crime by logic — if I put 
my mind to do so. But my mind is not partial to logic. 
I fight game-fowl and like it, be the fashion and the 
ethics what they may.” 

He was unjust to himself as usual; to him there was 
no diflPerence between the death of a pheasant afield and 
the taking off of a good bird in the pit. 

Seated around the pit, there was some delay in show- 
ing, and Dr. Carmody of the brigade staff gave me, 
unsolicited, his mature opinions upon game-fowl: 

“ Show me a bird of bold carriage, comb bright red 
and upright, eye full and bright, beak strong and in 
good socket, breast full, body broad at shoulder and 
tapering to tail, thigh short, round, and hard as a nail, 
leg stout, flat-footed, and spur low — a bird with bright, 
hard feathers, strong in a quill, warm and firm to the 
hand — and I care not what breed he be, spangle or 
black-red. I’ll lay my last farthing with you, Mr. Re- 
nault, if it shall please you.” 

“ And what am I to back ? ” said I, laughing — “ a 
full plume, a long, soft hackle, a squirrel- tail, a long- 
thighed, in-kneed, weak-beaked, coarse-headed henning- 
fowl selected by you? ” 


55 


THE RECKONING 


The little doctor roared with laughter; the buzz 
and hum of conversation increased around us — bits of 
banter, jests tossed from friend to friend. 

“ Who dubs your birds for you, Sir Peter.? ” cried 
Helsing — ‘‘ the Bridewell barber.? ” 

“ Ten guineas to eight with you on the first battle,” 
retorted Sir Peter, courteously ; and, “ Done with you, 
sir ! ” said Helsing, noting the bet, while Sir Peter 
booked his memorandum and turned to meet a perfect 
shower of offers, all of which he accepted smilingly. 
And I — oh, I was sick to sit there without a penny laid 
to show my loyalty to Sir Peter. But it must be so, 
and I bit my lip and strove to smile and parry with a 
jest the well-meant offers which now and then came fly- 
ing my way. But O’Neil and Harkness backed the 
Platbush birds right Ibyally, cautioned by Sir Peter, 
who begged that they wait; but they would not — and 
one was Irish — so nothing would do but a bold front 
and an officer snapped with, Done, sir ! ” 

The judges and the referee had been chosen, the 
color-writers selected, and Sir Peter had won the draw, 
choosing, of course, to weigh first, the main being gov- 
erned by rules devised by the garrison regiments, partly 
Virginian, partly New York custom. Matches had been 
made in camera, the first within the half-ounce, and 
allowing a stag four ounces; round heels were to be 
used ; all cutters, twists, and slashers barred ; the metal 
was steel, not silver. 

And now the pitters had taken station, Horrock and 
a wall-eyed Bat-man of the Train, and the birds had 
billed three times and had been fairly delivered on the 
56 


THE COQ D’OR 


score — a black brass-back of ours against a black-red 
of the Fifty-fourth. Scarcely a second did they eye 
one another when crack ! slap ! they were at it, wing and 
gaffle. Suddenly the black-red closed and held, struck 
like lightning five or six times, and it was all over with 
Sir Peter’s Flatbush brass-back, done for in a single 
heat. 

“ Fast work,” observed Sir Peter calmly, taking 
snuff, with a pleasant nod to the enemy. 

Then odds on the main flew like lightning, all taken 
by Sir Peter and O’Neil and a few others of ours, and 
I biting my lip and fixing my eyes on the roof. Had 
I not dreaded to hurt Sir Peter I should never, never 
have come. 

We again showed a brass-back and let him run in 
the pit before cutting a feather, whereupon Sir Peter 
rashly laid ten to five and few takers, too, for the 
Fifty-fourth showed a pyle of five-pounds-three — a 
shuffler which few fancied. But Lord ! the shuffler 
drummed our brass-back to the tune of Sir Daniel 
O’Day, and though two ounces light, took just eight 
minutes to crow for victory. 

Again we showed, this time a duck-wing, and the 
Fifty-fourth a blue hackle, heavily backed, wha proved 
a wheeler, but it took twenty minutes for him to lay the 
duck-wing upon the carpet ; and we stood three to the 
bad, but game, though the odds on the main were heav- 
ily against us. Our fourth, a blinker, blundered to 
victory ; our fifth hung himself twice to the canvas and 
finally to the heels of a bewildered spangle; our sixth, 
a stag, and a wheeling lunatic at that, gave to the 

57 


THE RECKONING 


Fifty-fourth a bad quarter of an hour, and then, when 
at the last moment our victory seemed certain, was sent 
flying to eternity in one last feathered whirlwind, leav- 
ing us four to split and four to go, with hopeless odds 
against us, and Sir Peter calmly booking side-bets on 
anything that anybody offered. 

When the call came we all rose, leaving the pit by 
the side-entrance, which gave on the cherry garden, 
where tables were spread for luncheon and pipes fetched 
for all who cared not to scorch their lips with Spanish 
cigars. 

Sir Peter, hard hit, moved about in great good hu- 
mor, a seed-cake in one hand, a mug of beer in t’other ; 
and who could suppose he stood to lose the thousand 
guineas he had such need of — and more besides ! — so 
much more that it turned me cold to think of Duke 
Street, and how on earth I was to find funds for the 
bare living, luxuries aside. 

As for O’Neil, the crazy, warm-hearted Irishman 
went about blustering for odds — pure, generous bra- 
vado! — and the Fifty-fourth, to their credit, let him 
go unharmed, and Harkness, too. As for me, I was 
very quiet, holding my peace and my opinions to myself, 
which was proper, as I had laid not one penny on a 
feather that day. 

Sir Peter, seeing me sitting alone under a cherry- 
tree, came strolling over, followed by Horrock. 

“ Well, Cams,” he said, smiling blandly, “ more 
dealing with Duke Street, eh? Pooh! There’s balm 
in Gilead and a few shillings left still in the Dock- 
Ward ! ” He laughed, but I said nothing. ‘‘ Speak 
58 


THE COQ D’OR 


out, man ! ” he said gaily ; “ what do you read by the 
pricking of your thumbs? ” 

“ Ask Horrock,” I said bluntly. He turned to the 
grim-visaged retainer, laying his hand familiarly on the 
old man’s shoulder. 

“ Horrock begs me to ride for an even break,” he 
said; “ don’t you, O paragon among pitters? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I do. Ask Mr. Renault what Sir William 
Johnson’s Huron Reds did to the Patroon’s Tartars in 
every main fought ’twixt Johnstown and Albany in ’72 
and ’73.” 

I looked up, astounded. “ Have you four Hurons 
to show? ” I asked Sir Peter, incredulously. 

“ I have,” he said. 

A desperate hope glimmered in my mind — nay, not 
merely a hope but a fair certainty that ruin could be 
held at arm’s length for a while. So possessed was I 
by absolute faith in Sir William Johnson’s strain, called 
Hurons, that I listened approvingly to Sir Peter’s plans 
for a dashing recoup. After all, it was now or never; 
the gamblers’ fever seized me, too, in a vise-like grip. 
Why should I not win a thousand guineas for my pris- 
oners, risking but a few hundred on such a hazard! 

“ You wdll be there, of course,” he said. And after 
a long silence, I answered : 

“ No, I shall walk in the garden until you finish. 
The main should be ended at five.” 

“ As you choose, Carus,” he answered pleasantly, 
glancing at his watch. Then turning, he cried : “ Time, 
gentlemen — and four to ten w^e split the main ! ” 

“ Done wdth you. Sir Peter ! ” came the answering 
59 


THE RECKONING 


shout as from a single throat; and Sir Peter, smiling 
to himself, booked briefly and sauntered toward the 
tavern door, old Horrock trotting faithfully at heel. 

I had risen and was nervously pacing the grass 
under the cherry-trees, miserable, full of bitterness, de- 
pressed, already bitterly regretting the chance lost, 
arguing that it was a certainty and no hazard. Yet, 
deep in my heart, I knew no gentleman can bet on cer- 
tainty, and where there is no certainty there is risk. 
That risk I had not taken; the prisoners were to gain 
or suffer nothing. Thinking of these matters I started 
to stroll through the cherry grove, and as I stepped 
from the shade out upon the sunny lawn the shadow 
of an advancing figure warned me, and I looked up 
to behold a young officer, in a black and green uniform, 
crossing my path, his head turned in my direction, his 
dark, luminous gaze fastened curiously upon me. 

Dazzled somewliat by the sun in my eyes, I peered 
at him as he passed, noting the strange cut of his regi- 
mentals, the silver buttons stamped with a motto in 
relief, the curious sword-knot of twisted buck-thong 
heavily embroidered in silver and scarlet wampum. 
Wampum? And what was that devil’s device flashing 
on button and shoulder-knot? 

“ Butler’s Rangers ! ” 

Slowly I turned to stare; he halted, looking back 
at me, a slim, graceful figure in forest-green, his own 
black hair gathered in a club, his dark amber eyes fixed 
on mine with that veiled yet detached glare I had not 
forgotten. 

“ Captain Butler,” I said mechanically. 

60 


THE COQ D’OR 


Hats in hand, heels together, we bowed low in the 
sunshine — so low that our hands on our hilts alone re- 
tained the blades in their scabbards, while our hats 
swept the short grass on the lawn ; then, leisurely erect, 
once more we stood face to face, a yard of sod betwixt 
us, the sunshine etching our blue shadows motionless. 

“ Mr. Renault,” he said, in that colorless voice he 
used at times, “ I had thought to know you, but you 
are six years older. Time’s alchemy ” — ^he hesitated, 
then with a perfect bow — “ refines even the noblest 
metal. I trust your health and fortune are all that 
you could desire. Is madam, your mother, well, and 
your honorable father? ” 

“ I thank you. Captain Butler.” 

He looked at me a moment, then with a melancholy 
smile and a gesture wholly graceful : “ It is poor repara- 
tion to say that I regret the error of my Cayugas which 
committed your house to the flames.” 

‘‘ The fortune of war. Captain Butler. I trust your 
home at Butlersbury still survives intact.” 

A dull color crept into his pallid cheeks. 

“ The house at Butlersbury stands,” he said, “ as 
do Johnson Hall, Guy Park, and old Fort Johnson. We 
hope erelong to open them again to our friends, Mr. 
Renault.” 

“ I have understood so,” I said politely. “ When 
do you march from Thendara? ” 

Again the dark color came into his face. “ Sir 
Frederick Haldimand is a babbler!” he said, between 
tightening lips. “ Never a secret, never a plan, but 
he must bawl it aloud to all who care to listen, or sound 
6 61 


THE RECKONING 


it as he gads about from camp to city — aye, and chat- 
ters it to the forest trees for lack of audience, I sup- 
pose. All New York is humming with it, is it not, Mr. 
Renault ? ” 

“And if it is, what harm.^ ” I said pleasantly. 
“ Who ever heard of Thendara, save as a legend of a 
lost town somewhere in the wilderness.'^ Who in New 
York knows where Thendara lies? ” 

He looked at me with unwinking eyes — the empty 
stare of a bird of prey. 

‘'You know, for one,” he said ; and his eyes suddenly 
became piercing. 

I smiled at him without comprehension, and he took 
the very vagueness of my smile for acquiescence. 

Like the luminous shadow of summer lightning the 
flame flickered in his eyes, and went out, leaving them 
darkly drowned in melancholy. He stepped nearer. 

“ Let us sit under the trees for a moment — if I am 
not detaining you, Mr. Renault,” he said in a low, 
pleasant voice. I bowed. We turned, walking shoulder 
to shoulder toward the shade of the cherry-trees, 
now in full foliage and heavily fruited. With perfect 
courtesy he halted, inclining his head, a gesture for me 
to pass before him. We seated ourselves at a rustic table 
beneath the trees ; and I remember the ripe cherries 
which had dropped upon it from the clusters overhead, 
and how, as we talked, I picked them up, tasting them 
one by one. 

“ I am here,” he began abruptly, “ of my own idea. 
No one, not even Sir Henry, is aware that I am in New 
York. I came from Halifax by the Gannet, schooner, 
62 


THE COQ D’OR 


landing at Coenties Slip among the fishing-smacTc in 
time for breakfast; then to Sir Peter Coleville’s, learn- 
ing he was here — cock-fighting ! ” A trace of a sneer 
edged his finely cut nostrils. 

“ If you desire concealment, is it wise to wear that 
uniform.^ ” I asked. 

“ I am known on the fighting-line, not in this peace- 
ful garrison of New York,” he said haughtily. “We 
of the landed gentry of Tryon County make as little of 
New York as New York makes of us ! ” A deeper sneer 
twitched his upper lip. “ Had I my way, this port 
should be burned from river to river, fort, shipping, 
dock — all, even to the farms outlying on the hills — and 
the enervated garrison marched out to take the field ! ” 
He made a violent gesture toward the north. “ I should 
fling every man and gun pell-mell on that rebels’ rat- 
nest called West Point, and uproot and tear it from the 
mountain flank! I should sweep the Hudson with fire; 
I should hurl these rotting regiments into Albany and 
leave it a smoking ember, and I should tread the embers 
into the red-wet earth ! That is the way to make war 1 
But this — ” He stared south across the meadows 
where in the distance the sunlit city lay, windows 
a-glitter, spires swimming in the blue, and on the bay 
white sails glimmering off shores of living green. 

“ Mr. Renault,” he said, “ I am here to submit this 
plan to Sir Henry Clinton. Lord Cornwallis advocated 
the abandonment of New York last May. I am here to 
urge it. If Sir Henry will approve, then the war ends 
before the snow flies ; if he will not, I still shall act my 
part, and lay the north in ashes so that not one ear 


THE RECKONING 


of corn may be garnered for the rebel army, not one 
grain of wheat be milled, not a truss of hay remain 
betwixt Johnstown and Saratoga! Nothing in the 
north but blackened desolation and the silence of an- 
nihilation. That is how I make war.” 

“ That is your reputation,” I said calmly. 

His smile was ghastly — a laugh without sound, that 
touched neither eyes nor mouth. 

At that moment I heard cries and laughter and a 
great babel of voices from the tavern. He rose in- 
stantly, I also ; the stable-lads were bringing up the 
horses; the tavern door was flung wide, and out of it 
poured the cockers, a turbulent river of scarlet and gold, 
the noisy voices and laughter increasing to tumult as 
the officers mounted with jingle of spur and scabbard, 
draining the stirrup-cup and hastening to their duties. 

“ By gad, sir! ” cried Jamison, turning in his saddle 
as he passed me, “ those Hurons did the trick for Sir 
Peter. He’s split the main, so help me ! and stands 
to win a fortune.” 

And Dr. Carmody, galloping past, waved his hand 
with a hopeless laugh. “We’re cleaned out! cleaned 
out ! ” he cried ; “ that main has beggared the brigade 
staff. Damme, he’s beggared the entire garrison ! ” 

Others rode by, gaily uproarious in defeat, clean, 
gallant sportsmen all, saluting misfortune as cheerily 
and as recklessly as they might have greeted victory. 

“ Have at thee, buck ! ” shouted young Caryl, wa- 
ving his hand as he passed me. “ We’ll try it again, you 
villain, if there’s life left in our fasting mess! ” 

And Helsing, passing at a canter, grinned and beat 

« 64 ! 


THE COQ D’OR 


his gold-laced breast in mock despair, shouting back to 
me : “ I’m for Duke Street and Mendoza ! Dine well, 
Cams, you who can afford to sup on chicken ! ” 

Then came Sir Peter, cool, debonair, surrounded 
by a crowd afoot, Horrock at heel, his old eyes dim 
with joy, his grim mouth set; and after him two lads 
leading our horses, and O’Neil and Harkness mounted, 
curbing the triumph that glittered in their eyes. 

“ Yonder comes Sir Peter,” I said to Walter Butler. 
“ Shall I have the honor of making you known to one 
another? ” 

“ He has forgotten me, I think,” said Butler slowly, 
as Sir Peter raised his hat in triumphant greeting to 
me and then included Butler in a graver salute. 

“ You have heard the new^s, Carus? ” he asked gaily. 

“ I give you joy,” I said. Then, with colorless cere- 
mony, I made them known to one another, and with 
greater ceremony they exchanged salutes and compli- 
ments — a pair matched in flawless breeding and the 
usages of perfect courtesy. 

‘‘ I bear a letter,” said Walter Butler, “ and have 
this morning done myself the honor of waiting upon 
Lady Coleville and the ‘ Hon. Elsin Grey.’ ” 

And as Sir Peter acknowledged the courtesy, I looked 
suddenly at Walter Butler, remembering what Elsin 
Grey had told me. 

“ The letter is from General Sir Frederick Haldi- 
mand,” he said pleasantly, “ and I fear it bears you 
news not too agreeable. The Hon. Miss Grey is sum- 
moned home. Sir Peter — pending a new campaign.^’ 

“ Home ! ” exclaimed Sir Peter, surprised. “ Why, 

65 


THE RECKONING 


I thought — I had hoped we were to have her with us 
until winter. Gad ! It is as you say, not too agreeable 
news, Captain Butler. Why, she has been the life of 
the town, sir ; she has waked us and set us all a-dancing 
like yokels at a May-pole or a ring-around-a-rosy ! 
Split me! Captain Butler, but Lady Coleville will be 
sorry to learn this news — and I, too, sir, and every man 
in New York town.” 

He looked at me in genuine distress. My face was 
perfectly expressionless. 

“ This should hit you hard, Carus,” he said mean- 
ingly. Then, without seeing, I felt Walter Butler’s 
head slowly turning, and was aware of his eyes on me. 

“ Come, gentlemen,” said Sir Peter, “ the horses are 
here. Is not that fine chestnut your mount. Captain 
Butler.? You will ride with us, will you not.? Where 
is your baggage.? At Flocks.? I shall send for it — 
no, sir, I take no excuse. While you are in New York 
you shall be my guest. Captain Butler.” 

And so. Sir Peter naming Butler to O’Neil and 
Harkness, and salutes being decently exchanged, we 
mounted and cantered off along Great George Street, 
Horrock on his hunter bringing up the rear. 

And at every stride of my horse a new misgiving, 
a deeper distrust of this man Butler stirred in my 
troubled heart. 


66 


CHAPTER IV 


SUNSET AND DARK 

It was six o’clock in the early evening, the sun still 
shining, and in the air a sea-balm most delicious. Sir 
Peter and Captain Butler had gone to see Sir Henry, 
Butler desiring to be presented by so grand a person- 
age as Sir Peter, I think, through mere vanity; for his 
own rank and title and his pressing mission should have 
been sufficient credentials. Sir Henry Clinton was not 
too difficult of approach. 

Meanwhile I, finding neither Lady Coleville nor the 
Hon. Elsin Grey at home, had retired to my chambers 
to write to Colonel Willett concerning Butler’s violent 
designs on the frontier. When I finished I made a sealed 
packet of all papers accumulated, and, seizing hat, 
snuff-box, and walking-stick, went out into Wall Street, 
through the dismal arcades of the City Hall, and down 
to Hanover Square. Opposite Mr. Goelet’s Sign of the 
Golden Key, and next door to Mr. Minshall’s fashionable 
Looking-Glass Store, was the Silver Box, the shop of 
Ennis the Tobacconist, a Boston man in our pay; and 
it was here that for four years I was accustomed to 
bring the dangerous despatches that should go north to 
his Excellency or to Colonel Willett, passed along from 
partizan to partizan and from agent to agent, though 
who these secret helpers along the route might be I 
6T 


THE BECKONING 


never knew, only that Ennis charged himself with what 
despatches I brought, and a week or more later they 
were at Dobbs Ferry, West Point, or in Albany. John 
Ennis was there when I entered ; he bowed his dour and 
angular New England bow, served a customer with 
snuff, bowed him to the door, then returned grinning 
to me, rubbing his long, lean, dangerous hands upon 
his apron — hands to throttle a Tryon County wolf! 

“ Butler’s in town,” he said harshly, through his 
beak of a nose. “ I guess there’s blood to be smelled 
somewhere in the north when the dog-wolf’s abroad at 
sunup. He came by sloop this morning,” he added, 
taking the packet from my hands and laying it upon 
a table in plain sight — the best way to conceal anything. 

“ How do you know .? ” I asked. 

“ A Bull’s-Head drover whistled it an hour since,” 
he said carelessly. “ That same drover and his mate 
desire to see you, Mr. Renault. Could you, by chance, 
take the air at dusk — say on Great George Street — 
until you hear a whippoorwill.'^ ” 

I nodded. 

‘‘ You will not fail, then, sir.? This drover and his 
fellow go north to-night, bearing the cross o’ fire.” 

“ I shall not fail them,” I said, drawing a triple roll 
of guineas from my pocket. “ This money goes to the 
prison-ships; they are worse off there than undei*, Cun- 
ningham. See to it, Ennis. I shall bring more to- 
morrow.” 

He winked ; then with grimace and circumstance and 
many a stiff-backed bow conducted me to the door, 
where I stood a moment, snuff-box in hand, as though 
68 


SUNSET AND DARK 


testing some new and most delicious brand just pur- 
chased from the Silver Box. 

There were many respectable folk abroad in Han- 
over Square, thronging the foot-paths, crowding along 
the gay shop-windows, officers lagging by the jeweler’s 
show, sober gentlemen clustering about the book-stalls, 
ladies returning from their shopping or the hair- 
dresser’s, young bucks, arm in arm, swaggering in and 
out of coffee-house and tavern. 

As I stood there, making pretense to take snuff, I 
noticed a sedan-chair standing before Mrs. Ballin’s 
milliner y-shop, and seeing that the bearers were Lady 
Coleville’s men, I crossed the street. 

As I came up they touched their hats, and at the 
same moment the shop-door opened and out tripped, 
not Lady Coleville at all, but the Hon. Elsin Grey in 
the freshest of flowered gowns, wearing a piquant chip 
hat a la Gunning, with pink ribbons tied under her 
dainty chin. 

“ You ! ” she cried. ‘‘ Of all men, to be caught 
a-raking in Hanpver Square like some mincing mac- 
aroni, peeping into strange sedan-chairs ! ” 

“ I knew it was Lady Coleville’s chair,” I said, 
laughing, yet a little vexed, too. 

It isn’t ; it’s Mrs. Barry’s,” she said. “ Our chairs 
are all at the varnishers. Now what excuse can you 
trump up ” 

“ The bearers are Lady Coleville’s,” I said. “ Don’t 
be disagreeable. I came to walk with you.” 

“ Expecting to meet Rosamund Barry ! Thank 
you, Carus. And I may add that I have seen little of 
69 


THE RECKONING 


you since Friday ; not that I had noticed your ab- 
sence, but meeting you on your favorite promenade 
reminded me how recreant are men. Heigho ! and alas ! 
You may hand me to my chair before you leave me to 
go ogling Broad Street for your Sacharissa.” 

I conducted her to the curb in silence, tucking her 
perfumed skirts in as she seated herself. The bearers 
resumed the bars, and I, hat under one arm and stick 
at a fashionable angle, strolled along beside the chair 
as it proceeded up Wall Street. It wag but a step to 
Broadway. I opened the chair door and aided her to 
descend, then dismissed the bearers and walked slowly 
with her toward the stoop. 

“ This silence is truly soothing,” she observed, nose 
in the air, “ but one can not expect everything*, Mr. 
Renault.” 

“ What is it that you lack.? ” I asked. 

“ A man to talk to,” she said disdainfully. “ For 
goodness sake, Carus, change that sulky face for a 
brighter mask and find a civil word for me. I do not 
aspire to a compliment, but, for mercy’s sake, say 
something ! ” 

“ Will you walk with me a little way.? ” I inquired 
stiffly. 

“Walk with you.? Oh, what pleasure! Where.? 
On Broadway.? On Crown Street.? On Queen Street.? 
Or do you prefer Front Street and Old Slip.? I wish 
to be perfectly agreeable, Carus, and I’ll do anything 
to please you, even to running away with you in an 
Italian chaise I ” 

“ I may ask you to do tliat, too,” I said. 


SUNSET AND DARK 


“ Ask me, then ! Mercy on the man ! was there ever 
so willing a maid? Give me a moment to fetch a sun- 
mask and I’m off with you to any revel you please — 
short of the Coq d’Or,” she added, with a daring laugh 
— “ and I might be persuaded to that — as far as the 
cherry-trees — with Carus, and let my reputation 

go hang ! ” 

We had walked on into Broadway and along the 
foot-path under the lime-trees where the robins were 
singing that quaint evening melody I love, and the 
pleasant scent of grass and salt breeze mingled in ex- 
quisite freshness. 

“ I had a dish of tea with some very agreeable peo- 
ple in Queen Street,” she remarked. “ Lady Coleville is 
there still. I took Mrs. Barry’s chair to buy me a hat 
— and how does it become me? ” she ended, tipping her 
head on one side for my inspection. 

“ It is modish,” I replied indifferently. 

“ Certainly it is modish,” she said dryly — “ a Gun- 
ning hat, and cost a penny, too. Oh, Carus, when I 
think what that husband of mine must pay to maintain 
me ” 

“ What husband ? ” I said, startled. 

“ Why, any husband ! ” She made a vague gesture. 
“ Did I say that I had picked him out yet, silly ? But 
there must be one some day, I suppose.” 

We had strolled as far as St. Paul’s and had now 
returned as far as Trinity. The graves along the north 
transept of the ruined church were green and starred 
with wild flowers, and we turned into the churchyard, 
walking very slowly side by side. 

71 


THE RECKONING 


“ Elsin,” I began. 

“ Ah ! the gentleman has found his tongue,” she 
exclaimed softly. “ Speak, Sir Frippon ; thy Sacha- 
rissa listens.” 

“ I have only this to ask. Dance with me once to- 
night, will you.^ — nay, twice, Elsin.? ” 

She seated herself upon a green mound and looked 
up at me from under her chip hat. “ I have not at all 
made up my mind,” she said. “ Captain Butler is to 
be there. He may claim every dance that Sir Henry 
does not claim.” 

“ Have you seen him.? ” I asked sullenly. 

“ Mercy, yes ! He came at noon while you and Sir- 
Peter were gambling away your guineas at the Coq 
d’Or.” 

“ He waited upon you? ’’ 

“ Fie waited on Lady Coleville. I was there.” 

“ Were you not surprised to see him in New York.? ” 

‘‘ Not very ” — she considered me with a far-away 
smile — “ not very greatly nor very — agreeably sur- 
prised. I have told you his sentiments regarding 
me.” 

“ I can not understand,” I said, “ what you see in 
him to fascinate you.” 

“ Nor I,” she replied so angrily that she startled 
me. “ I thought to-day when I met him. Oh, dear ! 
Now I’m to be harrowed with melancholy and passion, 
when I was having such an agreeable time ! But, Carus, 
even while I pouted I felt the subtle charm of that very 
sadness, the strange, compelling influence of those mel- 
ancholy eyes.” She sighed and plucked a late violet, 
72 


SUNSET AND DARK 


drawing the stem slowly between her white teeth and 
staring at the ruined church. 

After a while I said : “ Do you regret that you are 
so soon to leave us.^ ” 

“ Regret it? ” She looked at me thoughtfully. 
“ Cams,” she said, “ you are wonderfully attractive to 
me. I wish you had acquired that air of gentle melan- 
choly — that poet’s pallor which becomes a noble sad- 
ness — and I might love you, if you asked me.” 

“ I’m sad enough at your going,” I said lightly. 

“ Truly, are you sorry P And when I am gone 
will you forget la belle Canadienne? Ah, monsieur, 
I’amitie est une chose si rare, que, n’eut-elle dure qu’un 
jour, on doit en respecter jusqu’au souvenir.” 

“ It is not I who shall forget to respect it, madam, 
jusqu’au souvenir.” 

‘‘ Nor I, mon ami. Had I not known that love is 
at best a painful pleasure I might have mistaken my 
happiness with you for something very like it.” 

“ You babble of » love,” I blurted out, ‘‘ and you 
know nothing of it ! What foolish whim possesses you 
to think that fascination Walter Butler has for you 
is love? ” ' 

“ What is it, then? ” she asked, with a little shudder. 

‘‘ How do I know? He has the devil’s own tenacity, 
bold black eyes and a well-cut head, and a certain grace 
of limb and bearing nowise remarkable. But ” I 
waved my hand helplessly — how can a sane man un- 
derstand a woman’s pref erence — nay, Elsin, I do not 
even pretend to understand you. All I know is that 
our friendship began in an instant, opened to full sweet- 

73 


THE RECKONING 


ness like a flower overnight, and, like a flower, is nearly 
ended now — nearly ended.” 

“ Not ended; I shall remember.” 

“ Well, and if we both remember — to what pur- 
pose ? ” 

“ To what purpose is friendship. Cams, if not to 
remember when alone ? ” 

I listened, head bent. Then, pursuing my own 
thoughts aloud: “It is not wise for a maid to plight 
her troth in secret, I care not for what reasons. I 
know something of men ; it is a thing no honest man 
should ask of any woman. Why do you fear to tell 
Sir Frederick Haldimand.^” 

“ Captain Butler begged me not to.” 

“ Why ? ” I asked sharply. 

“ He is poor. You must surely know what the 
rebels have done — how their commissioners of seques- 
tration seized land and house from the Try on County 
loyalists. Captain Butler desires me to say nothing 
until, through his own efforts and by his sword, he has 
won back his own in the north. And I consented. 
Meanwhile,” she added airily, “ he has a glove of mine 
to kiss, I refusing him my hand to weep upon. And 
so we wait for one another, and pin our faith upon 
his sword.” 

“To wait for him — to plight your troth and wait 
for him until he and Sir John Johnson have come into 
their own again ” 

“ Yes, Cams.” 

“ And then you mean to wed him.^ ” 

She was silent. The color ebbed in her cheeks. 

74 


SUNSET AND DARK 


I stood looking at her through the evening light. 
Behind her, gilded by the level rays of the sinking sun, 
a new headstone stood, and on it I read : 

IN MEMORY OF 

Michael Cresap, First Cap’t 
Of the Rifle Battalions, 

And Son to Col. Thomas 
Cresap, Who Departed this 
Life, Oct. 18, A.D. 1775. 

Cresap, the generous young captain, whose dusty 
column of Maryland riflemen I myself had seen when 
but a lad, pouring through Broadalbin Bush on the 
way to Boston siege! This was his grave; and a Tory 
maid in flowered petticoat and chip hat was seated on 
the mound a-prattling of rebels I 

“ When do you leave us ? ” I asked grimly. 

“ Captain Butler has gone to see Sir Henry to ask 
for a packet. We sail as soon as may be.” 

“ Does he go with you.?^ ” I demanded, startled. 

Why, yes — I and my two maids, and Captain 
Butler. Sir Frederick Haldimand knows.” 

“ Yes, but he does not know that Captain Butler 
has presumed — has dared to press a clandestine suit 
with you I ” I retorted angrily. “ It does not please me 
that you go under such doubtful escort, Elsin.” 

“And pray, who are you to please, sir.^ ” she asked 
in quick displeasure. “ You speak of presumption in 
others, j\Ir. Renault, and, unsolicited, you offer an 
affront to me and to a gentleman who is not here to 
answer.” 


75 


THE RECKONING 


“ I wish he were,” I said between my teeth. 

Her fair face hardened. 

“ Wishes are very safe, sir,” she said in a low voice. 

At that, suddenly, such a blind anger flooded me 
that the setting sun swam in my eyes and the blood 
dinned in ears and brain as though to burst them. At 
such moments, which are rare with me, I fall silent; and 
so I stood, while the strange rage shook me, and passed, 
leaving me cold and very quiet. 

“ I think we had best go,” I said. 

She held out her hand. I aided her to rise ; and she 
kept my hand in hers, laying the other over it, and 
looked up into my eyes. 

“ Forgive me. Cams,” she whispered. ‘‘No man 
can be more gallant and more sweet than you.” 

“ Forgive me, Elsin. No maid so generous and just 
as you.” 

And that was all, for we crossed the street, and I 
mounted the stoop of our house with her, and bowed her 
in when the great door opened. 

“Are you not coming in.?” she asked, lingering 
in the doorway. 

“ No. I shall take the air.” 

“ But we sup in a few moments.” 

“ I may sup at the Coq d’Or,” I said. Still she 
stood there, the wind blowing through the doorway flut- 
tering the pink bows tied under her chin — a sweet, wist- 
ful face turned up to mine, and the early candle-light 
from the hall sconces painting one rounded cheek with 
golden lusters. 

“ Have you freely forgiven me. Cams ? ” 

76 


SUNSET AND DARK 


“ Yes, freely. You know it.” 

“ And you will be at the Fort ? I shall give you 
that dance you ask to-night, shall I not.^^ ” 

“ If you will.” 

There was a silence; she stretched out one hand. 
Then the door was closed and I descended the steps 
once more, setting my hat on my head and tucking my 
walking-stick under one arm, prepared to meet my 
drover friend, who, Ennis said, desired to speak with me. 

But I had no need to walk out along Great George 
Street to find my bird; for, as I left Walt Street and 
swung the corner into Broadway, the husky, impatient 
whisper of a whippoorwill broke out from the dusk 
among the ruins of Trinity, and I started and turned, 
crossing the street. Wild birds there were a-plenty in 
the city, yet the whippoorwill so seldom came into 
the streets that the note alone would have attracted me 
had Ennis not warned me of the signal. 

And so I strolled once more into the churchyard and 
among the felled trees which the soldiers had cut down 
for fire-wood, as they were scorched past hope of future 
growth ; and presently, prowling through the dusk 
among the graves by Lambert Street, I came upon my 
drover, seated upon a mound, smoking his clay as inno- 
cent as any tavern slug in the sun. 

Good even, friend,” he said, looking up. “ I 
thought I heard a whippoorwill but now, and being 
country bred, stole in to listen. Did you hear it, sir.^ ” 
“I thought I did,” said I, amused. “I thought 

it sang. Pro Gloria in Excelsis ” 

“ Hush ! ” whispered the drover, smiling ; “ sit here 
7 77 


THE RECKONING 


beside me and we’ll listen. Perhaps the bird may sing 
that anthem once again.” 

I seated myself on the green mound, and the next 
moment sprang to my feet as a shape before me seemed 
to rise out of the very ground; then, hearing my 
drover laugh, I resumed my place as the short figure 
came toward us. 

“ Another drover,” said my companion, “ and a 
famous one, Mr. Renault, for he drove certain wild 
cattle at a headlong gallop from the pastures at Sara- 
toga — he and I and another drover they call Dan’l 
Morgan. We have been strolling here among these 
graves, a-prying for old friends — brother drovers. We 
found one drover’s grave — a lad called Cresap — ^hard 
by the arch there to the north.” 

“ Did you know him ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes, lad. I was a herder of his at Dunmore’s 
slaughter-house. I saw him jailed at Fortress Pitt; I 
saw him freed, too. And one fine day in ’76, a-lolling 
at my ease in the north, what should I hear but a jolly 
conch-horn blowing in the forest, and out of it rolled 
a torrent of men in buckskin, Cresap leading, bound for 
that famous cattle-drive at Boston town. So I, being 
by chance in buckskin, and by merest chance bearing 
a rifle, fell in and joined the merry ranks — I and my 
young friend Cardigan, who is now with certain 
mounted drovers called, I think. Colonel Washington’s 
Dragoons, harrying those Carolina cattle owned by 
Tarleton.” 

He glanced up at his comrade, who stood silently 
beside him in the darkness. 

78 


SUNSET AND DARK 


“ He, too, was there, Mr. Renault — my fellow 
drover here, at your service. Weasel, remove thy hat 
and make a bow to Mr. Renault — our brother drover.” 

The little withered man uncovered with a grace 
astonishing. So perfect was his bearing and his bow 
that I rose instinctively to meet it, and match his cour- 
tesy with the best I could. 

“ When like meets like ’tis a duel of good manners,” 
said the big drover quietly. “ Mr. Renault, you salute a 
man as gently bred as any man who wears a gilt edge to 
his hat in County Try on. I call him the Weasel with 
all the reverence with which I say ‘ your lordship.’ ” 

The Weasel and I exchanged another bow, and I 
vow he outmatched me, too, in composure, dignity, and 
grace, and I wondered who he might be. 

“ Tempus,” observed the giant drover, “ fugits like 
the devil in this dawdling world o’ sin, as the poet has 
it — eh, Weasel So, not even taking time to ask your 
pardon for my Latin, sir, I catch Time by the scalp- 
lock and add a nick to my gun-stock. Lord, sir! 
That’s no language for a peaceful, cattle-driving yokel, 
is it now.? Ah, Mr. Renault, I see you suspect us, and 
we have only to thank God you’re not a lobster-back to 
bawl for the sergeant and his lanthorn.” 

“ Who are you.? ” I asked, smiling. 

“ Did you ever hear of a vile highwayman called 
Jack Mount.? ” he asked, pretending horror. 

« Yes,” I said. 

“ You wouldn’t shake hands with him, would you.? ” 

“ Let’s try it,” I replied seriously, holding out my 
hand. 


79 


THE BECKONING 


He took it with a chuckle, his boyish face wreathed 
in smiles. “ A purse from a magistrate here and there,” 
he muttered — “ a Tory magistrate, overfat and proud 
— what harm, sir.'^ And I never could abide fat magis- 
trates, Mr. Renault,” he confided in a whisper. ‘‘ It 
is strange; you will scarce credit me, sir, when I tell 
you that when I’m near a magistrate, and particularly 
when he’s fat, and the moon’s low over the hills, why, 
my pistols leap from my belt of their own accord, and 
I must snatch them with both hands lest they go flying 
off like rockets and explode to do a harm to that same 
portly magistrate.” 

“ He does not mean all that,” said the Weasel, lay- 
ing his wrinkled hand affectionately on Mount’s great 
arm. “ He has served nobly, sir, with Cresap and with 
Morgan.” 

“ But when I’m alone,” sighed Mount, “ I’m in very 
bad company, and mischief follows, sure as a headache 
follows a tavern revel. I do not mean to stop these 
magistrates, Mr. Renault, only they will wander on the 
highway, under my very pistols, provoking ’em to fly 
out ! ” He looked at me and furtively licked the stem 
of his clay pipe. 

“ So you leave for the north to-night.^ ” I asked, 
amused. 

“ Yes, sir. There’s a certain Walter Butler in this 
town, arrived like a hen-hawk from the clouds, and 
peep! peep! we downy chicks must scurry to the forest, 
lad, or there’ll be a fine show on the gallows yonder 
and two good rifles idle in the hills of Tryon.” 

“You know Walter Butler.'^” 

80 


SUNSET AND DARK 


“Know him? Yes, sir. I had him at my mercy 
once — over my rifle-sights! Ah, well — he rode away 
— ^and had it not been young Cardigan who stayed my 
trigger-finger — But let that pass, too. What is he 
here for? ” 

“ To ask Sir Henry Clinton’s sanction of a plan to 
burn New York and fling the army on West Point, while 
he and Sir John Johnson and Colonel Ross strike the 
grain country in the north and lay it and the frontier 
in ashes.” 

There was a silence, then a quiet laugh from 
Mount. 

“ West Point is safe, I think,” he murmured. 

“ But Try on? ” urged the Weasel; “ how will it go 
with Tryon County, Jack?” 

Another silence. 

“ We’d best be getting back to Willett,” said Mount 
quietly. “ As for me, my errand is done, and the 
strange, fishy smells of New York town stifle me. I’m 
stale and timid, and I like not the shape of the gallows 
yonder. My health requires the half-light of the woods, 
Mr. Renault, and the friendly shadows which lie at 
hand like rat-holes in a granary. I’ve drunk all the 
ale at the Bull’s-PIead — weak stuff it was — and they’ve 
sent for more, but I can’t wait. So we’re off to the 
north to-night, friend, and we’ll presently rinse our 
throats of this salt wind, which truly inspires a noble 
thirst, yet tells nothing to a nose made to sniff the 
inland breezes.” 

He held out his hand, saying, “ So you can learn 
no news of this place called Thendara? ” 

81 


THE RECKONING 


“ I may learn yet. Walter Butler said to-day that 
I knew it. Yet I can not recall anything save the name. 
Is it Delaware And yet I know it must be Iroquois, 
too.” 

“ It might be Cayuga, for all I know,” he said. “ I 
never learned their cursed jargon and never mean to. 
My business is to stop their forest-loping — and I do 
when I can.” He spoke bitterly, like that certain class 
of forest-runners who never spare an Indian, never un- 
derstand that anything but evil can come of any blood 
but white. With them argument is lost, so I said 
nothing. 

‘‘Have you anything for Colonel Willett.^” he 
asked, after a pause. 

“ Tell him that I sent despatches this very day. 
Tell him of Butler’s visit here, and of his present plans. 
If I can learn where this Thendara lies I will write him 
at once. That is all, I think.” 

I shook their hands, one by one. 

“ Have a care, sir,” warned the Weasel as we 
parted. “ This Walter Butler is a great villain, and, 
like all knaves, suspicious. If he once should harbor 
misgivings concerning you, he would never leave your 
trail until he had you at his mercy. We know him. 
Jack and I. And I say, God keep you from that man’s 
enmity or suspicion. Good-by, Mr. Renault.” 

I retained his hand, gazing earnestly into his faded, 
kindly eyes. 

Do you know aught reflecting on his honor ” I 
asked. 

“ I know of Cherry Valley,” he replied simply. 

8S 


SUNSET AND DARK 


“ Yes ; but I mean his dealings with men in time 
of peace. Is he upright.^.” 

“ He is so considered, though they would have 
hanged him for a spy in Albany in ’78-’79, had not 
young Lafayette taken pity on him and had him re- 
moved from jail to a private house, he pleading illness. 
Once uncaged, he gnawed through, and was off to the 
Canadas in no time, swearing to repay tenfold every 
moment’s misery he spent in jail. He did repay — at 
Cherry Valley. Think, sir, what bloody ghosts must 
haunt his couch at night — unless he be all demon and 
not human at all, as some aver. Yet he has a wife, 
they say^ ” 

“ What!” 

“ He has a wife,” repeated Mount — “ or a mistress. 
It’s all one to him.” 

‘‘ Where ” I asked quietly. 

“ She was at Guy Park, the Oneidas told me ; and 
when Sullivan moved on Catharinestown she fled with 
all that Tory rabble, they say, to Butlersbury, and 
from thence to the north — God knows where! I saw 
her once; she is French, I think — and very young — a 
beauty, sir, with hair like midnight, and two black stars 
for eyes. I have seen an Oneida girl with such eyes.” 
He shrugged his shoulders. “ Walter Butler makes 
little of women — like Sir John Johnson,” he added in 
disgust. 

I was silent. 

“ We go north by Valentine’s and North Castle, the 
Albany road being unhealthy traveling at night,” said 
Mount, with a grin ; “ and I think. Cade, we’d best pull 
83 


THE RECKONING 


foot. I trust, Mr. Renault, that you may not 
hear of our being taken and hung to disgrace any 
friends of ours. Come, Cade, old friend, our fair ac- 
complice, the moon, is hid, so lift thy little legs and 
trot ! Au large ! ” 

They pulled off their hats with a gay flourish, 
turned, and plunged shoulder-deep into the weeds. 

And so they left me, creeping away through the 
low foliage into Greenwich Street, while I, rousing my- 
self, turned my steps toward home. I had no desire to 
sup ; my appetite’s edge had been turned by what 
I heard concerning Walter Butler. Passing slowly 
through the graveyard and skirting the burned church, 
I entered Broadway, where here and there a street-lamp 
was burning. Few people strolled under the lime-trees; 
cats prowled and courted and fought in the gutters, 
scattering in silent, shadowy flight before me as I 
crossed the street to the great house; and so buried in 
meditation was I that I presently found myself in my 
own room, and could not remember how I passed the 
door or mounted the long stairway to my chambers. 

Dennis came to do my hair, but I drove him out 
with boots in a sudden, petty fury new to my nature. 
Indeed, lying there in my stuffed armchair, I scarcely 
knew myself, so strai^gely sad and sullen ran my 
thoughts — not thoughts, either, for at first I followed 
no definite train, but a certain irritable despondency 
clothed me, and trifles enraged me, leaving me bitter 
and sick at heart, bearing a weight of apprehension 
concerning nothing at all. 

Oh, for a week of liberty from this pit of intrigue! 

84 


SUNSET AND DARK 


Oh, for a day’s freedom to ride like those blue dragoons 
of Heath I had seen along the Hudson ! Oh, to be free 
to dog-trot back to the north with those two gallant 
scamps of Morgan, and wear a hunting-shirt once more, 
and lay the long brown rifle level in this new quarrel 
coming soon between these Butlers and these Johnsons 
and our yeomanry of County Tryon ! 

“ By God ! ” I muttered, “ I care not if they take 
me, for I’m sick of spying and lying, so let them hoist 
me out upon that leafless tree where better men have 
swung, and have done with the wretched business once 
for all ! ” Which I meant not, and was silly to fume, 
and thankless, too, to anger the Almighty with ingrati- 
tude for His long and most miraculous protection. But 
I was in a foul humor with the world and myself, and 
I knew not what ailed me, either. True, the insolence 
of that libertine, Walter Butler, affronted me, and it 
gave me a sour pleasure to think how I should quiet his 
swagger with one plain word aside. 

Following this lead, I fell to thinking in earnest. 
What would it mean — a quarrel Dare he deny the 
charge? No; I should command, and he obey, and I’d 
send him slinking north by the same accursed schooner 
that brought him; and Elsin Grey should go when she 
pleased, escorted by a proper retinue. But I’d make 
no noise about it — not a word to set tongues wagging 
and eyes peeping — for Elsin’s sake. Lord ! the silly 
maid, to steer so near the breakers and destruction \ 

And what then? Well, I should never see her again, 
once she was safe among her kin in the Canadas. And 
she was doubtless the fairest woman I had ever looked 
85 


THE RECKONING 


upon — but light — not in an evil sense, God wot! but 
prone to impulse and caprice — a kitten, soft as silk, 
now staring at the world out of two limpid eyes, now 
frisking after breeze-blown rose-leaves. A man may 
admire such a child, nay, learn to love her dearly, in 
a way most innocent. But love I She did not know its 
meaning, and how could she inspire it in a man of the 
world. No, I did not love her — could not love a maid, 
unripe and passionless, and overpert at times, flouting 
a man like me with her airs and vapors and her insolent 
lids and lashes. Lord! but she carried it high-handed 
with me at times, plaguing me, teasing, pouting when 
my attention wandered midway in the pretty babble 
with which she condescended to entertain me. And with 
all that — and after all is said — there was something in 
me that warmed to her — perhaps the shadow of kinship 
— perhaps because of her utter ignorance of all she 
prated of so wisely. Her very crudity touched the 
chord of chivalry which is in all men, strung tight or 
loose, answering to a touch or a blow, but always an- 
swering in some faint degree, I think. Yet, if this 
is so, how could Walter Butler find it in his heart to 
trouble her? 

That he meant her real evil I did not credit, she 
being what she was. Doubtless he hoped to find some 
means of ridding him of a wife no longer loved; there 
were laws complacent for that sort of work. Yet, 
grant him free, how could he find it in his heart to 
cherish passion for a child? He was no boy — this pallid 
rake of thirty-five — this melancholy squire of dames 
who, ere he was twenty, had left a trail in Albany and 
86 


SUNSET AND DARK 


Tryon none too savory, if wide report be credited — 
he and Sir John Johnson! — as pretty a brace of liber- 
tines as one might find even in that rotten town of 
London. 

Well, I would send him on his business without noise 
or scandal, and I’d hold a seance, too, with Mistress 
Elsin, wherein a curtain-lecture should be read, kindly, 
gravely, but with firmness fitting! 

I lay back, stretching out my legs luxuriously, 
pleasantly contemplating the stern yet kindly role I 
was to play: first send him skulking, next enact the 
solemn father to this foolish maid. Then, admonishing 
and smiling forgiveness in one breath, retire as gravely 
as I entered — a highly interesting figure, magnanimous 
and moral 

A rapping at my chamber-door aroused me dis- 
agreeably from this flattering rhapsody. 

“ Enter ! ” I said ungraciously, and lay back, 
frowning to see there in the flesh the man whose pun- 
ishment I had been complacently selecting. 

“ Mr. Renault,” he said, “ am I overbold in this 
intrusion on your privacy.^ Pray, sir, command me, 
for my business must await your pleasure.” 

I bowed, rising, and pointing to a chair. “ It is 
business, then, not pleasure, as I take it. Captain Butler, 
that permits me to receive you.^ ” 

“ The business and the pleasure both are mine, Mr. 
Renault,” he said, which was stilted enough to be civil. 
“ The business, sir, is this : Sir Henry Clinton received 
me like a gentleman, but as soon as Sir Peter had retired 
he listened to me as though I were demented when I 
87 


THE RECKONING' 


exposed my plan to burn New York and take the field. 
I say he used me with scant civility, and bowed me out, 
like the gross boor he is ! ” 

“ He is commander-in-chief, Mr. Butler.” 

' * ' « What do I care! ” burst out Butler, his dark eyes 
a golden blaze. “ Am I not an Ormond-Butler ? Why 
should a Clinton affront an Ormond-Butler? By 
Heaven 1 I must swallow his airs and his stares and his 
shrugs because he is my superior; but I may one day 
rise in military rank as high as he — and I shall do so, 
mark me well, Mr. Renault! — and when I am near 
enough in the tinseled hierarchy to reach him at thirty 
paces I shall use the privilege, by God ! ” 

“ There are,” said I blandly, “ many subalterns on 
his staff who might serve your present purpose. Captain 
Butler.” 

“ No, no,” he said impatiently, his dark eyes wan- 
dering about the chamber, “ I have too much at stake 
to call out fledglings for a sop to injured pride. No, 
Mr. Renault, I shall first take vengeance for a deeper 
wrong — and the north lies like an unreaped harvest for 
the sickle that Death and I shall set a-swinging there.” 
I bent my head, meditating ; then looking up : 

“ You say I know where this Thendara lies? ” 

“ Yes,” he answered sullenly. “ You know as well 
as I do what is written in the Book of Rites.” 

At first his words rang meaningless, then far in my 
memory a voice called faintly, and a pale ray of light 
grew through the darkened chambers of my brain. 
And now I knew, now I remembered, now I understood 
where that lost town must lie — the town of Thendara, 
88 


SUNSET AND DARK 


lost ever and forever, only to be forever found again 
as long as the dark Confederacy should endure. 

Awed, I sat in silence; and he turned his gloomy 
eyes now on me, now on the darkened window, gnawing 
his lip in savage retrospection. 

Instantly I was aware that he doubted me, and why. 
I looked up at him, astounded; he lifted his brooding 
head and I made a rapid sign, saying in the Mohawk 
tongue: “ Karon-ta-Ke — at the Tree.f^ ” 

“ Karon-ta-Kowa-Kon — at the great tree. Sat- 
Kah-tos — thou seest. There lies the lost town of Then- 
dara. And, save for the council, where 3mu and I have 
a Wolf’s clan-right, no living soul could know what 
that w^ord Thendara means. God help the Oneida who 
betrays ! ” 

“ Since when and by what nation have you been 
raised up to sit in the council of condolence? ” I asked 
haughtily ; for, strange as it may appear to those who 
know not what it means to wear the Oneida clan-mark 
of nobility, I, clean-blooded and white-skinned, was as 
fiercely proud of this Iroquois honor as any peer of 
England newly invested with the garter. And it was 
strange, too, for I was but a lad when chosen for the 
mystic rite; but never except once — the day before I 
left the north to serve his Excellency’s purpose in New 
York — had I been present when that most solemn rite 
was held, and the long roll of dead heroes called in honor 
of the Great League’s founder, Hiawatha. 

And so, though I am pure white in blood and bone 
and every instinct, and having nigh forgotten that I 
wore the Wolf— and, too, the Long House being divided 
89 


THE RECKONING 


and I siding with the Oneidas, and so at civil war with 
the shattered league that served King George — yet I 
turned on Walter Butler as a Mohawk might turn upon 
a Delaware, scornfully questioning his credentials, de- 
manding his right to speak as one who had heard the 
roll-call of those Immortals who founded the “ Great 
Peace ” three hundred years ago. 

“ The Delawares named me, and the council took 
me,” he said with perfect calmness. “ The Delaware 
nation mourned their dead; and now I sit for the Wolf 
Clan — my elder brother, Renault.” 

‘‘ A Delaware clan is not named in the Rite,” I 
said coldly — “ nor is there kinship between us because 
you are adopted by the Delawares. I am aware that 
clanship knows no nations; and I, an Oneida Wolf, 
am brother to a Cayuga Wolf ; but I am not brother 
to you.” 

“ And why not to the t^yin clan of my adopted 
nation? ” he asked angrily. 

“ Yours is a cleft ensign and a double clan,” I 
sneered; “ which are you. Gray Wolf or Yellow Wolf? ” 

“Yellow,” he said, struggling to keep his temper; 
“ and if we Delawares of the Wolf-Clan are not named 
in the Book of Rites, nevertheless we sit as ensigns 
among the noble, and on the same side of the council- 
lodge as your proud Oneidas. We have three in the 
council as well as you, Mr. Renault. If you were a 
Mohawk I should hold my peace, but a Delaware may 
answer an Oneida. And so I answer you, sir.” 

How strange it seems now — we two white men, 
gentlemen of quality, completely oblivious to blood, 
90 


SUNSET AND DARK 


birth, tradition, breeding — our primal allegiance, our 
very individualities sunk in the mystical freemasonry 
of a savage tie which bound us to the two nations we 
assumed to speak for, Oneida and Delaware — two na- 
tions of the great Confederacy of the Iroquois that had 
adopted us, investing us with that clan nobility of which 
we bore the ensign. 

And we were in deadly earnest, too, standing 
proudly, fiercely, for our prerogatives; he already 
doubly suspicious of me because the Oneida nation which 
had adopted me stood for the rebel cause, yet, in his 
mealy-mouthed way, assuming that by virtue of Wolf 
clanship, as well as by that sentiment he supposed was 
loyalty to the King, I would do nothing to disrupt the 
council which I now knew must decide upon the an- 
nihilation of the Oneida nation, as well as upon the raid 
he contemplated. 

“ Do you imagine that I shall sit with head averted 
while four nations and your Delawares combine to plan 
the murder of my Oneidas.? ” I demanded passionately. 
“ When the council sits at Thendara I shall send a belt 
to every clan in the Oneida nation, and I care not who 
knows it ! ” 

He rose, pale and menacing. “ Mr. Renault,” he 
said, “ do you understand that a word from you would 
be a treason to the King.^ You can be a clansman of 
the Wolf and at the same time be loyal to the King and 
to the Iroquois Confederacy ; but you can not send a 
single string of wampum to the Oneidas and be either 
loyal to the Six Nations or to your King. The Oneidas 
marked for punishment; the frontier is doomed — 

91 


are 


THE RECKONING 


doomed, even though this frittering commander in New 
York will neither aid me nor his King. A word of 
warning to the Oneidas is a warning to the rebels. And 
that, sir, I can not contemplate, and jou must shrink 
from.” 

“ Do you deceive yourself that I shall stand silent 
and see the Oneida nation ruined.^ ” I asked between 
my teeth. 

‘‘Are you Oneida, or are you a British subject of 
King George.^ Are you an Iroquois renegade of the 
renegade Oneida nation, or are you first of all an Iro- 
quois of the Wolf-Clan As a white man, you are the 
King’s subject; as an Iroquois, you are still his subject. 
As an Oneida only, you must be as black a rebel as 
George Washington himself. That is the limpid logic of 
the matter, Mr. Renault. A belt to the Oneidas, and you 
become traitor to the Confederacy and a traitor to your 
King. And that, I say, you can not contemplate ! ” 

I fairly ground my teeth, subduing the rage and 
contempt that shook me. “ Since when. Captain But- 
ler,” I sneered, “ have the Oneidas learned to swallow 
Delaware threats.^ By God, sir, the oldest man among 
the council can not remember when a Delaware dared 
speak without permission of an Iroquois! As an Iro- 
quois and an Oneida, I bid the Delawares to speak only 
when addressed. But as a white man, I answer you 
that I require no instruction concerning my conduct, 
and shall merely thank you for your good intentions 
and your kind advice, which is the more generous be- 
cause unsolicited and wholly undesired I ” 

Again that menacing glare came into his eyes as 

92 


SUNSET AND DARK 


he stood staring at me. But I cared not; he was not 
mj guest, and he had outraged no roof of mine that 
the law of hospitality must close my mouth lest I betray 
the salt he had eaten within my walls. 

“ I am thinking,” he said slowly, “ that we did well 
to burn a certain house in Tryon Bush.” 

“ Think as you please. Captain Butler,” I said, 
bowing. “ The door swings open yonder for your 
convenience.” 

He surveyed me scornfully. “ I trust,” he said 
pleasantly, “ to resume this discussion at a time more 
opportune.” 

“ That also shall be at your convenience,” I said. 
Suddenly such a loathing for the man came over me that 
I could scarce return his salute and maintain that cour- 
teous calm which challenged men must wear at such a 
moment. 

He went away; and I, pacing my chamber lightly, 
whistled for Dennis, and when he came bade him curl 
and frizz and powder and perfume me as he had never 
done before. So to my bath, and then to court the 
razor, lathered cheek and chin, nose in the air, counting 
the posies on the wall, as I always did while Dennis 
shaved me of the beard I fondly feared might one day 
suddenly appear. 

And all the while, singing in my ears, I heard the 
meaning phrase he used at parting. Challenged.^ Not 
quite, but threatened with a challenge. The cards were 
mine to play — a pretty hand, with here and there a 
trump. Could I meet him and serve my country best? 
Aye, if I killed him. i^nd, strangely, I never thought 
8 93 


THE RECKONING 


that he might kill me; I only weighed the chances. If 
I killed him he could not blab and danger me with hints 
of meddling or of rank disloyalty ; but if I only maimed 
him he would never rest until suspicious eyes must make 
my mission useless. Suddenly I was aware that I had 
been a fool to anger him, if I wished to stay here in New 
York; nay, it was patent that unless I killed him he 
must one day work a mischief to our cause through me. 
A sneaking and unworthy happiness crept slowly over 
me, knowing that once my mission terminated here I 
was free to hoist true colors, free to bear arms, free to 
maintain openly the cause I had labored for so long in 
secret. No more mole’s work a-burrowing into dark- 
ness for a scrap to stay my starving country’s 
maw ; no more slinking, listening, playing the stupid 
indifferent ! 

And all the while my conscience was at work, urging 
me to repair the damage my forgetful passion had 
wrought, urging me to heal the breach with Butler, 
using what skill I might command, so that I could stay 
here where his Excellency had set me, plying my 
abhorred trade in useful, unendurable obscurity. 

It was a battle now ’twixt pride and conscience, 
’twixt fierce desire and a loathed duty — doubly detested 
since I had spied a way to freedom and had half tasted 
a whiff of good free air, untainted by deception. 

“ 0 Lord ! ” I groaned within myself, will no one 
set me free of this pit of intrigue and corruption in 
which I’m doomed to lurk.^^ Must I, in loyalty to 
his Excellency, repair this fault — go patch up all with 
Butler, and deceive him so that his hawk’s eyes and 
94 


SUNSET AND DARK 


forked tongue may not set folk a-watching this house 
sidewise? ” 

But while Dennis’s irons were in my hair I thought : 
“ Nevertheless, I must send a belt to our allies, the 
Oneidas; and then I dare not stay! Oh, jo^M ” 

But the joy was soon dashed. My belt must go first 
to Colonel Willett, and then to his Excellency, and it 
might be that he would judge it best to let the Oneidas 
fight their own battles and so decline to send my belt. 

By the time I had arrived so far in my mental argu- 
ment Dennis had curled, powdered, and tied my hair 
in the most fashionable manner, using a black flamboy- 
ant ribbon for the clubbed queue, a pearl-gray powder a 
la Rochambeau; but I was not foolish enough to permit 
him to pass a diamond pin into my hair, for I had once 
seen that fashion affected by Murray, Earl of Dunmore, 
that Royal Governor of Virginia who had laid Norfolk 
in ashes out of pure vindictiveness. 

My costume I shall describe, not, I hope, from any 
unworthy vanity, but because I love beautiful things. 
Therefore, for the pleasure of others who also admire, 
and prompted alone by a desire to gratify, I neither 
seek nor require excuses for recalling what I wore that 
night at the Artillery ball. The lace at the stock was 
tied full and fastened with brilliants; the coat of ivory 
silk, heavily embroidered with golden filigree, fell over 
a waistcoat of clouded ivory and gold mesh, fashionably 
short, and made by Thorne. My breeches were like 
the coat, ivory silk, buckled with gold; the stockings 
were white silk, a bunch of ribbon caught by the jew- 
eled buckles at either knee ; and upon my double- 
95 


THE RECKONING 


channeled pumps, stitched by Bass, buckles of plain dull 
gold. There was blond lace at throat and cuff. I con- 
fess that, although I did not wear two watches, a great 
bunch of seals dangled from the fob; and the small 
three-cornered French hat I tucked beneath my arm was 
laced like a Nivernois, and dressed and cocked by the 
most fashionable hatter in Hanover Square. 

The mirror before which I stood was but half long 
enough, so I bade Dennis place it upon the floor, whence 
it should reflect my legs and gilded court-sword. 
Pleased, I obtained several agreeable views of my cos- 
tume, Dennis holding two mirrors for me while I 
pondered, hesitating where to place the single patch of 
black. 

“ Am I fine, Dennis.? ” I asked. 

“ Now God be good to the ladies, sir ! ” he said, so 
seriously that I laughed like a boy, whisked out my 
sword, and made a pass at my mirrored throat. 

“ At all events,” I thought, “ I’ll be handsomely 
clothed if there’s a scratch-quarrel with Walter Butler — 
which God avert ! ” Then for the first time it occurred 
to me that it might not be Walter Butler, but I myself, 
lying stretched on the lawn behind the Coq d’Or, and 
I was comforted to know that, however low misfortune 
might lay me, I should be clothed suitably and as befitted 
a Renault. 


96 


CHAPTER V 


THE AKTILLERY BALL 

When I descended from my chamber to the south 
drawing-room I found there a respectable company of 
gentlemen assembled, awaiting the ladies who had not 
yet appeared. First I greeted Sir Henry Clinton, who 
had at that moment entered, followed by his staff and 
by two glittering officers of his Seventh Light Dra- 
goons. He appeared pale and worn, his eyes somewhat 
inflamed from overstudy by candle-light, but he spoke 
to me pleasantly, as did Oliver De Lancey, the Adju- 
tant-General, who had succeeded poor young Andre — 
an agreeable and accomplished gentleman, and very 
smart in his brilliant uniform of scarlet loaded with 
stiff gold. 

O’Neil, in his gay dress of the Seventeenth Dra- 
goons, and Harkness, Tvearing similar regimentals, were 
overflushed and frolicksome, no doubt having already 
begun their celebration for the victory of the Flatbush 
birds, which they had backed so fortunately at the 
Coq d’Or. Sir Peter, too, was in mischievous good 
spirits, examining my very splendid costume as though 
he had not chosen it for me at his own tailor’s. 

“Gad, Cams!” he exclaimed, “has his Majesty 
appointed a viceroy in North America — or is it the 
97 


THE RECKONING 


return of that Solomon whose subjects rule the Dock 
Ward still? ” 

O’Neil and Harkness, too, were merry, making pre- 
tense that my glitter set them blinking; but the grave, 
gray visage of Sir Henry, and his restless pacing of 
the polished floor, gave us all pause; and presently, as 
by common accord, voices around him dropped to lower 
tones, and we spoke together under breath, watching 
askance the commander-in-chief, who now stood, head 
on his jeweled breast, hands clasped loosely behind his 
back. 

“ Sir Peter,” he said, looking up with a forced 
laugh, “ I have irritating news. The rebel dragoons 
are foraging within six miles of our lines at Kings- 
bridge.” 

For a month we here in New York had become 
habituated to alarms. We had been warned to expect 
the French fleet; we had known that his Excellency 
was at Dobbs Ferry, with quarters at Valentine’s; we 
had seen, day by day, the northern lines strengthened, 
new guns mounted on the forts and batteries, new regi- 
ments arrive, constant alarms for the militia, and the 
city companies under arms, marching up Murray Hill, 
only, like that celebrated army of a certain King of 
France, to march down again with great racket of 
drums and overfierce officers noisily shouting commands. 
But even I had not understood how near to us the siege 
had drawn, closing in steadily, inch by inch, from the 
green Westchester hills. 

A little thrill shot through me as I noted the newer, 
deeper lines etched in Sir Henry’s pallid face, and the 
98 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


grave silence of De Lancey, as he stood by the window, 
arms folded, eying his superior under knitted brows. 

“ Why not march out, bands playing? ” suggested 
Sir Peter gaily. 

“ By God, we may do that yet to the tune they 
choose for us ! ” blurted out Sir Henry. 

“ I meant an assault,” said Sir Peter, the smile 
fading from his handsome face. 

“ I know what you meant,” returned Sir Henry 
W'earily. “ But that is what they wish. I haven’t the 
men, gentlemen.” 

There was a silence. He stood there, swaying slowly 
to and fro on his polished heels, buried in reflection ; but 
I, who stood a little to one side, could see his fingers; 
clasped loosely behind his back, nervously working and 
picking at one another. 

“What do they expect?” he said suddenly, lifting 
his head but looking at no one — “ what do they expect 
of me in England? I have not twelve thousand effect- 
ives, and of these not nine thousand fit for duty. They 
have eleven thousand, counting the French, not a dozen 
miles north of us. Suppose I attack? Suppose I beat 
them? They have but a mile to fall back, and they 
are stronger posted than before. I can not pass the 
Harlem with any chance of remaining, unless I leave 
here in New York a garrison of at least six thousand 
regulars. This gives me but three thousand regulars 
for a sortie.” He moved his head slowly, his eyes 
traveled from one to another with that heavy, dazed 
expression which saw nothing. 

“ Thirty thousand men could not now force Ford- 

99 


THE RECKONING 


ham Heights — and but a single bridge left across the 
Harlem. To boat it means to be beaten in detail. I 
tell you, gentlemen, that the only chance I might have 
in an attempt upon any part of Washington’s army 
must be if he advances. In formal council. Generals 
Kniphausen, Birch, and Robertson sustain me; and, be- 
lieving I am right, I am prepared to suffer injustice 
and calumny in silence from my detractors here in New 
lYork and at home.” 

His heavy eyes hardened; a flash lighted them, and 
he turned to Sir Peter, adding : 

“ I have listened to a very strange proposition from 
the gentleman you presented to me. Sir Peter. His 
ideas of civilized warfare and mine do not run in like 
channels.” 

“ So I should imagine,” replied Sir Peter dryly. 
‘‘ But he is my guest, and at his pressing solicitation 
I went with him to wait upon you.” 

Sir Henry smiled, for Sir Peter had spoken very 
distinctly, though without heat. 

“ My dear friend,” said the general gently, “ are 
you to blame for the violent views of this gentleman 
who so — ah — distinguished himself at Cherry Valley.? ” 

A sour grimace stamped the visage of every officer 
present; the name of Cherry Valley was not pleasant 
to New York ears. 

At that moment Walter Butler entered, halted on 
the threshold, glancing haughtily around him, advanced 
amid absolute silence, made his bow to Sir Peter, turned 
and rendered a perfect salute to Sir Henry, then, as 
Sir Peter quietly named him to every man present, 
100 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


greeted each with ceremony and a graceful reserve that 
could not but stamp him as a gentleman of quality and 
breeding. 

To me, above all, was his attitude faultless; and 
I, relinquishing to a tyrant conscience all hopes of 
profiting by my blunder in angering him, and giving 
up all hopes of a duel and consequently of freedom from 
my hateful business in New York, swallowed pride and 
repulsion at a single gulp, and crossed the room to 
where he stood alone, quite at his ease amid the con- 
versation which excluded him. 

“ Mr. Butler,” I said, “ I spoke hastily and 
thoughtlessly an hour since. I come to say so.” 

He bowed instantly, regarding me with curious 
eyes. 

“ I know not how to make further amends,” I be- 
gan, but he waved his hand with peculiar grace, a 
melancholy smile on his pale visage. 

“ I only trust, Mr. Renault, that you may one day 
understand me better. No amends are necessary. I 
assure you that I shall endeavor to so conduct that 
in future neither you nor any man may misap- 
prehend my motives.” He glanced coolly across at 
Sir Henry, then very pleasantly spoke of the coming 
rout at the Fort, expressing pleasure in gaiety and 
dancing. 

“ I love music, too,” he said thoughtfully, “ but have 
heard little for a year save the bellow of conch-horns 
from the rebel riflemen of Morgan’s corps.” 

Mr. De Lancey had come up, moved by the inbred 
courtesy which distinguished not Sir Henry, who osten- 
101 


THE RECKONING 


tatiouslj held Sir Peter in forced consultation, his 
shoulder turned to Walter Butler. And, of the twain, 
Mr. Butler cut the better figure, and spite of his true 
character, I was secretly gratified to see how our Tryon 
County gentry suffered nothing in comparison of savoir 
faire with the best that England sent us. Courtesy 
to an enemy — that is a creed no gentleman can renounce 
save with his title. I speak not of disputes in hot blood, 
but of a chance meeting upon neutral ground ; and Sir 
Henry was no credit to his title and his country in his 
treatment there of Walter Butler. 

One by one all spoke to Mr. Butler ; laughter 
among us broke out as wine was served and compliments 
exchanged. 

“ The hardest lesson man is born to is that lesson 
which teaches him to await the dressing of his lady,” 
said De Lancey. 

“ Aye, and await it, too, without impatience ! ” said 
Captain Harkness. 

“ And in perfect good-humor,” echoed De Lancey 
gravely. O’Neil sat down at the piano and played 
“ The World Turned Upside-Down,” all drifting into 
the singing, voice after voice ; and the beauty of Walter 
Butler’s voice struck all, so that presently, one by one, 
we fell silent, and he alone carried the quaint old melody 
to its end. 

“ I have a guitar hereabouts,” blurted out Sir Peter, 
motioning a servant. 

The instrument was brought, and Walter Butler 
received it without false modesty or wearying protesta- 
tion, and, touching it dreamily, he sang: 

102 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


Ninon ! Ninon ! Que fais-tu de la vie ? 

L’heure s’enfuit, le jour succede au jour, 

Rose, ce soir — demain fletrie 

Comment vis-tu, toi qui n’as pas d’amour ? 

Ouvrez-vous, jeunes fleurs 
Si la mort vous enleve. 

La vie est un sommei], I’amour en est le r^ve! ” 

Sad and sweet the song faded, lingering like per- 
fume, as the deep concord of the strings died out. All 
were moved. We pressed him to sing more, and he sang 
what we desired in perfect taste and with a simplicity 
that fascinated all. 

I, too, stood motionless under the spell, yet strug- 
gling to think of what I had heard of the nearness of 
his Excellency to New York, and how I might get word 
to him at once concerning the Oneidas’ danger and the 
proposed attempt upon the frontier granaries. The 
ladies had as yet given no sign of readiness; all pres- 
ent, even Sir Henry, stood within a circle around Wal- 
ter Butler. So I stepped quietly into the hallway and 
hastened up the stairs to my chamber, which I locked 
first, then seized paper and quill and fell to scribbling: 

“ To His Excellency, Gen’l Washington : 

“ Sir — I regret to report that, through thoughtless- 
ness and inadvertence, I have made a personal enemy of 
Captain Walter Butler of the Rangers, who is now here 
on a mission to enlist the aid of Sir Henry Clinton in 
a new attempt on the frontier. His purpose in this 
enterprise is to ruin our granaries, punish the Oneidas 
105 


THE RECKONING 


friendly to us, and, if aided from below, seize Albany, 
or at least Johnstown, Caughnawaga, and Schenectady. 
Sir John Johnson, Major Ross, and Captain Butler are 
preparing to gather at Niagara Fort. They expect 
to place a strong, swift force in the field — Rangers, 
Greens, Hessians, Regulars, and partizans, not count- 
ing Brant’s Iroquois of the Seneca, Cayuga, and 
Mohawk nations. 

“ The trysting-place is named as Thendara. Only 
an Iroquois, adopted or native, can understand how 
Thendara is to be found. It is a town that has no 
existence — a fabled town that has existed and will exist 
again, but does not now exist. It is a mystic term used 
in council, and understood only by those clan ensigns 
present at the Rite of Condolence. At a federal council 
of the Five Nations, at a certain instant in the cere- 
monies, that spot which for a week shall be chosen to 
represent the legendary and lost town of Thendara, 
is designated to the clan attestants. 

“ Now, sir, as our allies the Oneidas dare not 
answer to a belt summons for federal council, there is 
no one who can discover for you the location of the 
trysting-spot, Thendara. I, however, am an Oneida 
councilor, having conformed to the law of descent by 
adoption; and having been raised up to ensign by the 
Wolf-Clan of the Oneida Nation, beg leave to place my 
poor services at your Excellency’s disposal. There may 
be a chance that I return alive; and you, sir, are to 
judge whether any attempt of mine to answer the Iro- 
quois belt, which surely I shall receive, is worth your 
honorable consideration. In the meanwhile I am send- 
104 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


ing copies of this letter to Colonel Willett and to Gen’l 
Schuyler.” 

I hastily signed, seized more writing-paper, and fell 
to copying furiously. And at length it was accom- 
plished, and I wrapped up the letters in a box of snuff, 
tied and sealed the packet, and called Dennis. 

“ Take this snuff back to Ennis, in Hanover 
Square,” I said peevishly, “ and inform him that Mr. 
Renault desires a better quality.” 

My servant took the box and hastened away. I 
stood an instant, listening. Walter Butler was still 
singing. I cast my eyes about, picked up a half-written 
sheet I had discarded for fault of blots, crumpled it, 
and reached for a candle to burn it. But at that in- 
stant I heard the voices of the ladies on the landing 
below, so quickly opening my wainscot niche I thrust 
the dangerous paper within, closed the panel, and 
hastened away down-stairs to avoid comment for my 
absence. 

In the merry company now assembled below I could 
scarcely have been missed, I think, for the Italian 
chaises had but just that moment appeared to bear us 
away to the Fort, and the gentlemen were clustered 
about Lady Coleville, who, encircled by a laughing bevy 
of pretty women, was designating chaise-partners, read- 
ing from a list she held in her jeweled hands. Those 
already allotted to one another had moved apart, stand- 
ing two and two, and as I entered the room I saw Wal- 
ter Butler give his arm to Rosamund Barry at Lady 
Coleville’s command, a fixed smile hiding his disappoint- 
ment, which turned to a white grimace as Lady Cole- 
L05 


THE BECKONING 


ville ended with : “ Cams, I entrust to your escort the 
Hon. Elsin Grey, and if you dare to mn off with her 
there are some twenty court-swords ready here to ask 
the reason why. Sir Henry, will you take me as your 
penance ^ ” 

“ Now, gentlemen,” cried Sir Peter gaily, “ the 
chaises are here; and please to remember that there is 
no Kissing-Bridge between Wall Street and the Bat- 
tery.” 

Elsin Grey turned to me, laying her soft white 
hand on mine. 

“Hid you hear Mr. Butler sing.'^ ” she whis- 
pered. “ Is it not divine enough to steal one’s heart 
away ” 

“ He sings well,” I said, gazing in wonder at her 
ball-gown — pale turquoise silk, with a stomacher of 
solid brilliants and petticoat of blue and silver. “ Elsin, 
I think I never saw so beautiful a maid in all my life, 
nor a beautiful gown so nobly borne.” 

“ Do you really think so ^ ” she asked, delighted at 
my bluntness. “ And you, too, Carus — why, you are like 
a radiant one from the sky! I have ever thought you 
handsome, but not as flawless as you now reveal yourself. 
Lord! we should cut a swathe to-night, you and I, sir, 
blinding all eyes in our proper glitter. I could dance 
all night, and all day too! I never felt so light, so 
gay, so eager, so reckless. I’m quivering with delight, 
Carus, from throat to knee; and, for the rest, my head 
is humming with the devil’s tattoo and my feet keeping 
time.” 

She raised the hem of her petticoat a hand’s breadth, 

106 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


and tapped the floor with one little foot — a trifle only. 
“ That ballet figure that we did at Sir Henry’s — do you 
remember? — ^and the heat of the ballroom, and the 
French red running from the women’s cheeks? To- 
night is perfect, cool and fragrant. I shall dance un- 
til I die, and go up to heaven in one high, maddened 
whirl — zip ! — like a burning soul ! ” 

We were descending the stoop now. Our chaise 
stood ready. I placed her and followed, and away we 
rolled down Broadway. 

“ Am I to have two dances? ” I asked. 

“ Two ? Why, you blessed man, you may have 
twenty ! ” 

She turned to me, eyes sparkling, fan half 
spread, a picture of exquisite youth and beauty. Her 
jewels flashed in the chaise-lamps, her neck and shoul- 
ders glowed clear and softly fair. 

“Is that French red on lip and cheek?” I asked, 
to tease her. 

“ If there were a certain sort of bridge betwixt 
Wall Street and the Fort you might find out without 
asking,” she said, looking me daringly in the eyes. 
“ Lacking that same bridge, you have another bridge 
and another problem, Mr. Renault.” 

“ For lack of a Kissing-B ridge I must solve the pons 
asinorum, I see,” said I, imprisoning her hands. There 
was a delicate hint of a struggle, a little cry, and I 
had kissed her. Breathless she looked at me; the smile 
grew fixed on her red lips. 

“ Your experience in such trifles is a blessing to the 
untaught,” she said. “ You have not crumpled a rib- 
107 


THE BECKONING 


bon. Truly, Carus, only long and intense devotion to 
the art could turn you out a perfect master.” 

“ My compliments to you, Elsin ; I take no credit 
that your gown is smooth and the lace unruffled.” 

“ Thank you ; but if you mean that I, too, am prac- 
tised in the art, you are wrong.” 

The fixed smile trembled a little, but her eyes were 
wide and bright. 

“Would you laugh, Carus, if I said it: what you 
did to me — is the first — the very first in all my life.?’ ” 

“ Oh, no,” I said gravely, “ I should not laugh if 
you commanded otherwise.” 

She looked at me in silence, the light from the 
chaise-lamps playing over her flushed face. Presently 
she turned and surveyed the darkness where, row on 
row, ruins of burned houses stood, the stars shining 
down through roofless walls. 

Into my head came ringing the song that Walter 
Butler sang: 

Ninon ! Ninon ! thy sweet life flies ! 

Wasted in hours day follows day. 

The rose to-night to-morrow dies : 

Wilt thou disdain to love alway ? 

How canst thou live unconscious of Love’s fire. 
Immune to passion, guiltless of desire?” 

Now all around us lamplight glimmered as we 
entered Bowling Green, where coach and chaise and 
sedan-chair were jumbled in a confusion increased by 
the crack of whips, the trample of impatient horses, 
and the cries of grooms and chairmen. In the lamp’s 
108 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


increasing glare I made out a double line of soldiers, 
through which those invited to the Fort were passing; 
and as our chaise stopped and I aided Elsin to descend, 
the fresh sea-wind from the Battery struck us full, 
blowing her lace scarf across my face. 

Through lines of servants and soldiers we passed, 
her hand nestling closely to my arm, past the new series 
of outworks and barricades, where bronze field-pieces 
stood shining in the moonlight, then over a dry moat 
by a flimsy bridge, and entered the sally-port, thronged 
with officers, all laughing and chatting, alert to watch 
the guests arriving, and a little bold, too, with their 
stares and their quizzing-glasses. There is, at times, 
something almost German in the British lack of delicacy, 
which is, so far, rare with us here, though I doubt not 
the French will taint a few among us. But insolence 
in stare and smirk is not among our listed sins, though, 
doubtless, otherwise the list is full as long as that of 
any nation, and longer, too, for all I know. 

Conducting Elsin Grey, I grew impatient at the 
staring, and made way for her without ceremony, which 
caused a mutter here and there. 

In the great loft-room of the Barracks, held by the 
naval companies, the ball was to be given. I relin- 
quished my pretty charge to Lady Coleville at the door 
of the retiring-room, and strolled off to join Sir Peter 
and the others, gathering in knots throughout the cloak- 
room, where two sailors, cutlasses bared, stood guard. 

“ Well, Carus,” he said, smilingly approaching me, 
“ did you heed those chaste instructions I gave concern- 
ing the phantom Kissing-Bridge ? ” 

9 109 


THE RECKONING 


“ I did not run away with her,” I said, looking about 
me. “ Where is Walter Butler.? ” 

He returned to the house in a chaise for something 
forgotten — or so he said. I did not understand him 
clearly, and he was in great haste.” 

“ He went back to our house ? ” I asked un- 
easily. 

“ Yes — a matter of a moment, so he said. He re- 
turns to move the opening dance with Rosamund.” 

Curiously apprehensive, I stood there listening to 
the chatter around me. Sir Peter drummed with his 
fingers on his sword-hilt, and nodded joyously to every 
passer-by. 

“ You have found Walter Butler more agreeable, 
I trust, than our friend Sir Henry found him,” he 
said, turning his amused eyes on me. 

“ Perhaps,” I said. 

“ Perhaps.? Damme, Cams, that is none too cor- 
dial! What is it in the man that keeps men aloof.? 
Eh.? He’s a gentleman, a graceful, dark, romantic 
fellow, in his forest-green regimentals and his black 
hair worn unpowdered. And did you ever hear such 
a voice.? ” 

“ No, I never did,” I replied sulkily. 

“Delicious,” said Sir Peter — “a voice prettily cul- 
tivated, and sweet enough to lull suspicion in a saint.” 
He laughed : “ Rosamund made great eyes at him, the 
vixen, but I fancy he’s too cold to catch fire from a 
coquette. Did you learn if he is married .? ” 

“ Not from him, sir.” 

“ From whom.? ” 


110 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


I was silent. 

“ From whom.? ” he asked curiously. 

“ Why, I had it from one or two acquaintances, who 
say they knew his wife when she fled with other refugees 
from Guy Park,” I answered. 

Sir Peter shrugged his handsome shoulders, dusted 
his nose with a whisk of his lace handkerchief, and 
looked impatiently for a sign of his wife and the party 
of ladies attending her. 

Cams,” he said under his breath, “ you should 
enter the lists, you rogue.” 

“ What lists .? ” I answered carelessly. 

“ Lord ! he asks me what lists ! ” mimicked Sir Peter. 
“ Why don’t you court her.? The match is suitable and 
desirable. You ninny, do you suppose it was by acci- 
dent that Elsin Grey became our guest.? Why, lad, 
we’re set on it — and, damme ! but I’m as crafty a match- 
maker as my wife, planning the pretty game together in 
the secret of our chambers after you and Elsin are long 
abed, and — ^Lord ! I came close to saying ‘ snoring ’ — 
for which you should have called me out, sir, if you are 
champion of Elsin Grey.” 

“ But, Sir Peter,” I said smiling, “ I do not love 
the lady.” 

“ A boorish speech ! ” he snapped. “ Take shame. 
Cams, you Tryon County bumpkin ! ” 

“ I mean,” said I, reddening, “ and should have said, 
that the lady does not love me.” 

“ That’s better.” He laughed, and added, ‘‘ Pay 
your court, sir. You are fashioned for it.” 

“ But I do not care to,” I said. 

Ill 


THE RECKONING 


“ O Lord ! ” muttered Sir Peter, looking at the 
great beams above us, “ my match-making is come to 
naught, after all, and my wife will be furious with you — 
furious, I say. And here she comes, too,” he said, bright- 
ening, as he ever did, at sight of his lovely wife, who 
had remained his sweetheart, too; and this I am free 
to say, that, spite of the looseness of the times and of 
society, never, as long as I knew him, did Sir Peter 
forget in thought or deed those vows he took when 
wedded. Sportsman he was, and rake and gambler, 
as were we all; and I have seen him often overflushed 
with wine, but never heard from his lips a blasphemy 
or foul jest, never a word unworthy of clean lips and 
the clean heart he carried with him to his grave. 

As Lady Coleville emerged from the ladies’ cloak- 
room, attended by her pretty bevy. Sir Peter, followed 
by his guests, awaited her in the great corridor, where 
she took his arm, looking up into his handsome face 
with that indefinable smile I knew so w^ell — a smile of 
delicate pride, partly tender, partly humorous, tinc- 
tured with faintest coquetry. 

“ Sweetheart,” he said, “ that villain, Cams, will 
have none of our match-making, and I hope Rosamund 
twists him into a triple lover’s-knot, to teach him lessons 
he might learn more innocently.” 

Lady Coleville flushed up and looked around at me. 
“ Why, Cams,” she said softly, ‘‘ I thought you a man 
of sense and discretion.” 

“ But I — but she does not favor me, madam,” I 
protested in a low voice. 

“ It is your fault, then, and your misfortune,” she 

112 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


said. “ Do you not know that she leaves us to-morrow 
Sir Henry has placed a packet at our service. Can you 
not be persuaded — for my sake.^ It is our fond wish, 
Cams. How can a man be insensible to such wholesome 
loveliness as hers.^^ ” 

“ But — but she is a child — she has no heart ! She 
is but a child yet — all caprice, innocence, and artless 
babble — and she loves not me, madam ” 

“ You love not her ! Shame, sir! Open those brown 
blind eyes of yours, that look so wise and are so shallow 
if such sweetness as hers troubles not their depths I Oh, 
Cams, Cams, you make me too unhappy I ” 

“ Idiot 1 ” added Sir Peter, pinching my arm. 
“ Bring her to us, now, for we enter. She is yonder, 
you slow-wit ! nose to nose with O’Neil. Hasten I ” 

But Elsin’s patch-box had been mislaid, and while 
we searched for it I saw the marines march up,' form in 
double rank, and heard the clear voice of their sergeant 
announcing : 

“ Sir Peter and Lady Coleville I 

“ Captain Tully O’Neil and the Misses O’Neil ! 

“Adjutant-General De Lancey and Miss Beekman! 

“ Sir Henry Clinton ! 

“ Captains Harkness, Rutherford, Hallowell, and 
Mclvor ! 

“ Major-General ” 

“ Elsin,” I said, “ you should have been announced 
with Sir Peter and Lady Coleville 1 ” 

She had found her patch-box and her fan at length, 
and we marched in, the sergeant’s loud announcement 
ringing through the quickly filling room: 

113 


THE RECKONING 


“ Mr. Carus Renault and the Honorable Elsin 
Grey!” 

“ What will folk say to hear our banns shouted 
aloud in the teeth of all New York ? ” she whispered 
mischievously. “ Mercy on me 1 if you turn as red as 
a Bush wick pippin they will declare we are affianced ! ” 

“ I shall confirm it if you consent I ” I said, furi- 
ous to burn at a jest from her under a thousand 
eyes. 

“ Ask me again,” she murmured ; “ we make our 
reverences here.” 

She took her silk and silver petticoat between thumb 
and forefinger of each hand and slowly sank, making 
the lowest, stateliest curtsy that I ever bowed beside; 
and I heard a low, running murmur sweep the bright, 
jeweled ranks around us as we recovered and passed 
on, ceding our place to others next behind. 

The artillerymen had made the great loft gay with 
bunting. Jacks and signal-flags hung from the high 
beams overhead, clothing the bare timbers with thickets 
of gayest foliage ; banners and bright scarfs, caught up 
with trophies, hung festooned along the unpainted 
walls. They had made a balcony with stairs where the 
band was perched, the music of the artillery augmented 
by strings — a harp, half a dozen fiddles, cellos, bas- 
soons, and hautboys, and there were flutes, too, and 
trumpets lent by the cavalry, and sufficient drums to 
make that fine, deep, thunderous undertone, which I love 
to hear, and which heats my cheeks with pleasure. 

Beyond the spar-loft the sail-loft had been set aside 
and fashioned most elegantly for refreshment. An 
114 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


immense table crossed it, behind which servants stood, 
and behind the servants the wall had been lined with 
shelves covered with cakes, oranges, apples, early 
peaches, melons and nectarines, and late strawberries, 
also wines of every sort, pastry, jellies, whip -syllabub, 
rocky and floating island, blanc-mange, brandied pre- 
serves — and Heaven knows what ! But Elsin Grey whis- 
pered me that Pryor the confectioner had orders for 
coriander and cinnamon comfits by the bushel, and 
orange, lemon, chocolate, and burned almonds by the 
peck. 

“ Do look at Lady Coleville,” whispered Elsin, 
gently touching my sleeve ; “ is she not sweet as a bride 
with Sir Peter.? And oh, that gown! wdth the lilac 
ribbons and flounce of five rows of lace. Cams, she has 
forty diamond buttons upon her petticoat, and her 
stomacher is all amethysts ! ” 

“I wonder where Walter Butler is?” I said rest- 
lessly. 

“ Do you wush to be rid of me ? ” she asked. 

“ God forbid ! I only marvel that he is not here 
— he seemed so eager for the frolic ” 

My voice w^as drowned in the roll of martial music; 
we took the places assigned us, and the slow march 
began, ending in the Governor’s set, which was danced 
by eight couples — a curious dance, newly fashionable, 
and called “ En Ballet.” This we danced in a very in- 
teresting fashion, sometimes two and two, sometimes 
three and two, or four couple and four couple, and then 
all together, which vastly entertained the spectators. In 
the final melee I had lost my lady to JMr. Dc Lancey, 
115 


THE RECKONING 


who now carried her off, leaving me with a willowy maid, 
whose partner came to claim her soon. 

The ball now being opened, I moved a minuet with 
Lady Coleville, she adjuring me at every step and turn 
to let no precious moment slip to court Elsin; and I, 
bland but troubled, and astonished to learn how deep 
an interest she took in my undoing — I with worry 
enough before me, not inclusive of a courtship that I 
found superfluous and unimportant. 

When she was rid of me, making no concealment of 
her disappointment and impatience, I looked for Elsin, 
but found Rosamund Barry, and led her out in one of 
those animated figures we had learned at home from the 
Frenchman, Grasset — dances that suited her, the rose 
coquette! — gay dances, where the petticoat reveals a 
pretty limb discreetly; where fans play, opening and 
closing like the painted wings of butterflies alarmed; 
where fingers touch, fall away, interlace and unlace; 
where a light waist-clasp and a vis-a-vis leaves a mo- 
ment for a whisper and its answer, promise, assent, or 
low refusal as partners part, dropping away in low, 
slow reverence, which ends the frivolous figure with 
regretful decorum. 

Askance I had seen Elsin and O’Neil, a graceful pair 
of figures in the frolic, and now I sought her, leaving 
Rosamund to Sir Henry, but that villain O’Neil had 
her to wine, and amid all that thirsty throng and noise 
of laughter I missed her in the tumult, and then lost 
her for two hours. I must admit those two hours sped 
with the gay partners that fortune sent me — and one 
there was whose fingers were shyly eloquent, a black- 
116 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


eyed beauty from Westchester, with a fresh savor of 
free winds and grassy hillsides clinging to her, and a 
certain lovely awkwardness which claims an arm to 
steady very often. Lord! I had her twice to ices and 
to wine, and we laughed and laughed at nothing, and 
might have been merrier, but her mother seized her 
with scant ceremony, and a strange young gentleman 
breathed hard and glared at me as I recovered dignity, 
which made me mad enough to follow him half across 
the hall ere I reflected that my business here permitted 
me no quarrel of my own seeking. 

Robbed of my Westchester shepherdess, swallowing 
my disgust, I sauntered forward, finding Elsin Grey 
with Lady Coleville, seated together by the wall. What 
they had been whispering there together I knew not, 
but I pushed through the attendant circle of beaus and 
gallants who were waiting there their turns, and pre- 
sented myself before them. 

“ I am danced to rags and ribbons. Cams,” said 
Elsin Grey — “ and no thanks to you for the pleasure, 
you who begged me for a dance or two ; and I offered 
twenty, silly that I was to so invite affront! ” 

She was smiling when she spoke, but Lady Cole- 
ville’s white teeth were in her fan’s edge, and she looked 
at me with eyes made bright through disappointment. 

You are conducting like a silly boy,” she said, 
“ with those hoydens from Westchester, and every little 
baggage that dimples at your stare. Lord! Carus, I 
thought you grown to manhood ! ” 

“ Is there a harm in dancing at a ball, madam.? ” 
I asked, laughing. 


117 


THE RECKONING 


“Fie! You are deceitful, too. Elsin, be chary of 
your favors. Dance with any man but him. He’ll be 
wearing two watches to-morrow, and his hair piled up 
like a floating island ! ” 

She smiled, but her eyes were not overgay. And 
presently she turned on Elsin with a grave shake of 
her head: 

“ You disappoint me, both of you,” she said. 
“ Elsin, I never dreamed that ^ou ” 

Their fans flew up, their heads dipped, then Elsin 
rose and asked indulgence, taking my arm, one hand 
lying in Lady Coleville’s hand. 

“ Do you and Sir Peter talk over it together,” she 
said, with a lingering wistfulness in her voice. “ I 
shall dance with Cams, whether he will or no, and 
then we’ll walk and talk. You may tell Sir Peter, if you 
so desire.” 

“ All ? ” asked Lady Coleville, retaining Elsin’s 
hand. 

“ All, madam, for it concerns all.” 

Sir Henry Clinton came to wait on Lady Coleville, 
and so we left them, slowly moving out through the 
brilliant sea of silks and laces, her arm resting close in 
mine, her fair head bent in silent meditation. 

Around us swelled the incessant tumult of the ball, 
music and the blended harmony of many voices, rustle 
and whisper of skirt and silk, and the swish! swish! of 
feet across the vast waxed floor. 

“ Shall we dance ” I asked pleasantly. 

She looked up, then out across the ocean of glitter 
and restless color. 


118 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


‘‘Now I am in two minds,” she said — “ to dance 
until there’s no breath left and but a wisp of rags to 
cover me, or to sip a syllabub with you and rest, or go 
gaze at the heavens the while you court me ” 

“ That’s three minds already,” I said, laughing. 

“Well, sir, which are yoii for?” 

“ And you, Elsin? ” 

“ No, sir, you shall choose.” 

“ Then, if it lies with me, I choose the stars and 
courtship,” I said politely. 

“ I wonder,” she said, “ why you choose it — ^with a 
maid so pliable. Is not half the sport in the odds 
against you — the pretty combat for supremacy, the 
resisting fingers, and the defense, face covered? Is not 
the sport to overcome all these, nor halt short of the 
reluctant lips, still fluttering in voiceless protest? ” 

“ Where did you hear all that ? ” I asked, piqued 
yet laughing. 

“ Rosamund Barry read me my first lesson — and, 
after all, though warned, I let you have your way with 
me there in the chaise. Oh, I am an apt pupil, Carus, 
with Captain Butler in full control of my mind and you 
of my body.” 

“ Have you seen him yet ? ” I asked. 

“ No ; he has not appeared to claim his dance. A 
gallant pair of courtiers I have found in you and 
him ” 

“ Couple our names no more ! ” I said so hotly that 
she stopped, looking at me in astonishment. 

“ Have you quarreled ? ” she asked. 

I did not answer. We had descended the barrack- 

119 


THE RECKONING 


stairs and were entering the parade. Dark figures 
in pairs moved vaguely in the light of the battle- 
lanthorns set. We met O’Neil and Rosamund, who stood 
star-gazing on the grass, and later Sir Henry, pacing 
the sod alone, who, when he saw me, motioned me to 
stop, and drew a paper from his breast. 

“ Sir Peter and Lady Coleville’s pass for West- 
chester, which he desired and I forgot. Will you be good 
enough to hand it to him, Mr. Renault.? There is a 
council called to-night — it is close to two o’clock, and 
I must go.” 

He took a courtly leave of us, then wandered away, 
head bent, pacing the parade as though he kept 
account of each slow step.' 

“ Yonder comes Knyphausen, too, and Birch,” I 
said, as the German General emerged from the case- 
mates, followed by Birch and a raft of officers, spurs 
clanking. 

We stood watching the Hessians as they passed in 
the lamp’s rays, officers smooth-shaven and powdered, 
wearing blue and yellow, and their long boots; soldiers 
with black queues in eelskin, tiny mustaches turned 
up at the waxed ends, and long black, buttoned spatter- 
dashes strapped at instep and thigh. 

“ Let us ascend to the parapets,” she said, looking 
up at the huge, dark silhouette above where the south- 
east bastion jutted seaward. 

A sentry brought his piece to support as we went 
by him, ascending the inclined artillery road, whence 
we presently came out upon the ramparts, with the vast 
sweep of star-set firmament above, and below us the 
120 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


city’s twinkling lights on one side, and upon the other 
two great rivers at their trysting with the midnight 
ocean. 

There were no lights at sea, none on the Hudson, 
and on the East River only the sad signal-spark smol- 
dering above the J ersey. 

Elsin had found a seat low on a gun-carriage, and, 
moving a little, made place for me. 

“ Look at that darkness,” she said — “ that infinite 
void under which an ocean wallows. It is like hell, I 
think. Do you understand how I fear the ocean ” 

“ Do you fear it, child ? ” 

“ Aye,” she said, musing ; “ it took father and 
mother and brother. You knew that.^^ ” 

“ Lady Coleville says there is always hope that they 
may be alive — cast on that far continent ” 

“ So the attorneys say — because there is a legal 
limit — and I am the Honorable Elsin Grey. Ah, Cams, 
I know that the sea has them fast. No port shall that 
tall ship enter save the last of all — the Port of Missing 
Ships. Heigho ! Sir Frederick is kind — in his own 
fashion. ... I would I had a mother. . . . There 
is a loneliness that I feel ... at times. . . 

A vague gesture, and she lifted her head, with a 
tremor of her shoulders, as though shaking off care as 
a young girl drops a scarf of lace to her waist. 

Presently she turned quietly to me: 

“ I have told Lady Coleville,” she said. 

“ Told her what, child ? ” 

Of my promise to Captain Butler. I have not 
yet told everything— even to you.” 

121 


THE RECKONING 


Roused from my calm sympathy I swung around, 
alert, tingling with interest and curiosity. 

“ I gave her leave to infonn Sir Peter,” she added. 
“ They were too unhappy about you and me. Cams. 
Now they will understand there is no chance.” 

And when Sir Peter had asked me if Walter Butler 
was married, I had admitted it. Here was the matter 
already at a head, or close to it. Sudden uneasiness 
came upon me, as I began to understand how closely 
the affront touched Sir Peter. What would he do? 

“ What is it called, and by what name. Cams, when 
a man whose touch one can not suffer so dominates one’s 
thoughts — as he does mine? ” 

“ It is not love,” I said gloomily. 

“ He swears it is. Do you believe there may 
lie something compelling in his eyes that charm 
and sadden — almost terrify, holding one pitiful yet 
reluctant?” 

“ I do not know. I do not understand the logic of 
w^omen’s minds, nor how they reason, nor w^hy they love. 
I have seen delicacy mate with coarseness, wit with stu' 
pidity, humanity with brutality, religion with the skep^ 
tic, aye, goodness with evil. I, too, ask why? The 
answer ever is the same — because of love ! ” 

“ Because of it, is reason ; is it not? ” 

“ So women say.” 

“ And men? ” 

“ Aye, they say the same ; but with men it is another 
sentiment, I think, though love is what we call it.” 

“ Why do men love. Cams ? ” 

“ Why? ” I laughed. “ Men love — men love be- 

122 ^ 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


cause they find it pleasant, I suppose — for variety, for 
family reasons.” 

“ For nothing else.^^ ” 

“For a balm to that mad passion driving them.” 

“ And — nothing nobler.? ” 

“ There is a noble love, part chivalry, part desire, 
inspired by mind and body in sweetest unison.” 

“ A mind that seeks its fellow.? ” she asked softly. 

“No, a mind that seeks its complement, as the body 
seeks. This union, I think, is really love. But I speak 
with no experience, Elsin. This only I know, that you 
are too young, too innocent to comprehend, and that 
the sentiment awakened in you by what you think is 
love, is not love. Child, forgive me what I say, but 
it rings false as the vows of that young man who 
importunes you.” 

“ Is it worthy of you, Carus, to stab him so behind 
his back.? ” 

I leaned forward, my head in my hands. 

“ Elsin, I have endured these four years, now, a 
thousand little stings which I could not resent. For- 
getting this, at moments I blurt out a truth which, were 
matters otherwise with me, I might back with — what 
is looked for when a man repeats what may affront his 
listener. It is, in a way, unworthy, as you say, that 
I speak lightly to you of a man I can not meet with 
honor to myself. Yet, Elsin, were my duty first 
to you — first even to myself — this had been settled 
now — this matter touching you and Walter Butler 
— and also my ancient score with him, which is as yet 
unreckoned.” 


123 


THE BECKONING 


“ What keeps you, then ? ” she said, and her voice 
rang a little. 

I looked at her; she sat there, proud head erect, 
searching me with scornful eyes. 

“ A small vow I made,” said I carelessly. 

“ And when are you released, sir ? ” 

“ Soon, I hope.” 

“ Then, Mr. Renault,” she said disdainfully, “ I 
pray you swallow your dislike of Captain Butler until 
such time as you may explain your enmity to him.” 

The lash stung. I sat dazed, then wearied, while 
the tingling passed. Even the silence tired me, and 
when I could command my voice I said: “ Shall we 
descend, madam There is a chill in the sea-air.” 

“ I do not feel it,” she answered, her voice not like 
her own. 

“ Do you desire to stay here ? ” 

“ No,” she said, springing up. “ This silence of 
the stars wearies me.” 

She passed before me across the parapet and down 
the inclined way, I at her heels; and so into the dark 
parade, where I caught up with her. 

“ Have I angered you without hope of pardon.^ 

I asked. 

“ You have spoiled it all for me ” 

She bit her lip, suddenly silent. Sir Peter Cole- 
ville stood before us. 

“ Lady Coleville awaits you,” he said very quietly, 
too quietly by far. “ Carus, take her to my wife. Our 
coach is waiting.” 

We stared at him in apprehension. His face was 
U4> 


THE ARTILLERY BALL 


serene, but colorless and hard as steel, as he turned and 
strode away ; and we followed without a wwd, drawing 
closer together as we moved through a covered passage- 
way and out along Pearl Street, where Sir Peter’s 
coach stood, lamps shining, footman at the door. 

Lady Coleville was inside. I placed Elsin Grey, 
and, at a motion from Sir Peter, closed the door. 

“ Home,” he said quietly. The footman leaped to 
the box, the whip snapped, and away rolled the coach, 
leaving Sir Peter and myself standing there in Pearl 
Street. 

“ Your servant Dennis sought me out,” he said, 
“ with word that Walter Butler had been busy sounding 
the panels in your room.” 

Speech froze on my lips. 

“ Further,” continued Sir Peter calmly, “ Lady 
Coleville has shared with me the confidence of Elsin Grey 
concerning her troth, clandestinely plighted to this gen- 
tleman whom you have told me is a married man.” 

I could not utter a sound. Moment after moment 
passed in silence. The half-hour struck, then three- 
quarters. At last from the watch-tower on the Fort 
the hour sounded. 

There was a rattle of wheels behind us ; a coach 
clattered out of Beaver Street, swung around the rail- 
ing of the Bowling Green, and drew up along the foot- 
path beside us ; and Dr. Carmody leaped out, shaking 
hands with us both. 

“ I found him at Fraunce’s Tavern, Sir Peter, bag 
and baggage. He appeared to be greatly taken aback 
when I delivered your cartel, protesting that something 
10 125 


THE RECKONING 


was wrong, that there could be no quarrel between you 
and him ; but when I hinted at his villainy, he went white 
as ashes and stood there swaying like a stunned man. 
Gad ! that hint about his wife took every ounce of blood 
from his face, Sir Peter.” 

“ Has he a friend to care for him? ” asked Sir 
Peter coldly. 

“ Jessop of the Sappers volunteered. I found him 
in the tap-room. They should be on their way by this 
time. Sir Peter.” 

“ That will do. Cams will act for me,” said Sir 
Peter in a dull voice. 

He entered the coach ; I followed, and Dr. Carmody 
followed me and closed the door. A heavy leather case 
lay beside me on the seat. I rested my throbbing head 
on both hands, sitting swaying there in silence as the 
coach dashed through Bowling Green again and sped 
clattering on its way up-town. 


126 


CHAPTER VI 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 

As our coach passed Crown Street I could no longer 
doubt whither we were bound. The shock of certainty 
aroused me from the stunned lethargy which had chained 
me to silence. At the same moment Sir Peter thrust his 
head from the window and called to his coachman : 

“ Drive home first ! ” And to me, resuming his seat : 
“We had nigh forgotten the case of pistols, Cams.” 

The horses swung west into Maiden Lane, then south 
through Nassau Street, across Crown, Little Queen, and 
King Streets, swerving to the right around the City 
Hall, then sharp west again, stopping at our own gate 
with a clatter and clash of harness. 

Sir Peter leaped out lightly, and I followed, leaving 
Dr. Carmody, with his surgical case, to await our 
return. 

Under the door-lanthorn Sir Peter turned, and 
in a low voice asked me if I could remember where the 
pistol-case was laid. 

My mind was now clear and alert, my wits already 
busily at work. To prevent Sir Peter’s facing Walter 
Butler; to avoid Cunningham’s gallows; could the first 
be accomplished without failure in the second.^ Arrest 
might await me at any instant now, here in our own 
127 


THE RECKONING 


house, there at the Coq d’Or, or even on the very field 
of honor itself. 

“ Where did you leave the pistol-case that day you 
practised in the garden? ” I asked coolly. 

“ ’Twas you took it, Carus,” he said. “ Were you 
not showing the pistols to Elsin Grey ? ” 

I dropped my head, pretending to think. He waited 
a moment, then drew out his latch-key and opened the 
door very softly. A single sconce-candle flared in the 
hall ; he lifted it from the gilded socket and passed into 
the state drawing-room, holding the light above his 
head, and searching over table and cabinet for the 
inlaid case. 

Standing there in the hall I looked up the dark and 
shadowy stairway. There was no light, no sound. In 
the drawing-room I heard Sir Peter moving about, open- 
ing locked cupboards, lacquered drawers, and crystal 
doors, the shifting light of his candle playing over wall 
and ceiling. Why he had not already found the case 
where I had placed it on the gilded French table I could 
not understand, and I stole to the door and looked in. 
The French table stood empty save for a vase of 
shadowy flowers; Sir Peter was on his knees, candle in 
hand, searching the endless lines of book-shelves in the 
library. A strange suspicion stole into my heart which 
set it drumming on my ribs. Flad Elsin Grey removed 
the pistols? Had she wit enough to understand the 
matters threatening? 

I looked up at the stairs again, then mounted them 
noiselessly, and traversed the carpeted passage to her 
door. There was a faint light glimmering under the 
128 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


sill. I laid my face against the panels and whispered, 
“ Elsin ! ” 

“ Who is there ” A movement from within, a creak 
from the bed, a rustle of a garment, then silence. 
Listening there, ear to her door, I heard distinctly 
the steady breathing of some one also listening on the 
other side. 

“ Elsin!” 

“ Is it you, Cams ? ” 

She opened the door wide and stood there, candle 
in one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other, lace night- 
cap and flowing, beribboned robe stirring in the draft of 
air from the dark hallway. But under the loosened 
neck-cloth I caught a gleam of a metal button, and 
instantly I was aware of a pretense somewhere, for be- 
neath the flowing polonaise of chintz, or Levete, which 
is a kind of gown and petticoat tied on the left hip with 
a sash of lace, she was fully dressed, aye, and shod for 
the street. 

Instinctively I glanced at the bed, made a quick step 
past her, and drew the damask curtain. The bed had 
not been slept in. 

“ What are you thinking of. Cams ? ” she said 
hotly, springing to the curtain. There was a sharp 
sound of cloth tearing; she stumbled, caught my arm, 
and straightened up, red as fire, for the hem of her 
Levete was laid open to the knee, and displayed a foot- 
mantle, under which a tiny golden spur flashed on a 
lacquered boot-heel. 

“ What does this mean.^ ” I said sternly. “ Whither 
do you ride at such an hour? ” 

129 


THE RECKONING 


She was speechless. 

‘‘ Elsin ! Elsin ! If you had wit enough to hide Sir 
Peter’s pistols, render them to me now. Delay may 
mean my ruin.” 

She stood at bay, eying me, uncertain but defiant. 

“ Where are they ? ” I urged impatiently. 

“ He shall not fight that man ! ” she muttered. “ If 
I am the cause of this quarrel I shall end it, too. What 
if he were killed by Walter Butler.? ” 

“ The pistols are beneath your mattress ! ” I said 
suddenly. “ I must have them.” 

Quick as thought she placed herself between me and 
the bed, blue eyes sparkling, arms wide. 

“Will you go?” she whispered fiercely. “How 
dare you intrude here ! ” 

Taken aback by the sudden fury that flashed out 
in my very face, I gave ground. 

“ You little wildcat,” I said, amazed, “ give me 
the pistols ! I know how to act. Give them, I say ! Do 
you think me a poltroon to allow Sir Peter to face this 
rascal’s fire ? ” 

She straightened with a sudden quiver. 

“ You ! The pistols were for you ! ” 

“ For me and Walter Butler,” I said coolly. “ Give 
them, Elsin. What has been done this night has set 
me free of my vow. Can you not understand? I 
tell you he stands in my light, throwing the shadow 
of the gallows over me! May a man not win back 
to life but a chit of a maid must snatch his chance 
away? Give them, or I swing at dawn upon the 
common ! ” 


130 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


A flush of horror swept her cheeks, leaving her 
staring. Her wide-flung arms dropped nervelessly and 
hung beside her. 

“ Is it true/’ she faltered — “ what he came here to 
tell us on his way to that vile tavern.?^ I gave him the 
lie, Cams. I gave him the lie there in the hall below.” 
She choked, laying her white hand on her throat. 
“ Speak! ” she said harshly; ‘‘ do you fear to face this 
dreadful charge he flung in my teeth? I ” — she almost 
sobbed — “ I told him that he lied.” 

“ He did not lie. I am a spy these four years here,” 
I said wearily. “ Will you give me those pistols now? 
— or I take them by force I ” 

“ Cams,” called Sir Peter from the hall, “ if Lady 
Coleville has my pistols, she must render them to you 
on the instant.” 

His passionless voice rang through the still, dark 
house. 

“ She has gone to the Coq d’Or,” muttered Elsin 
Grey, motionless before me. 

“ To stop this duel? ” 

“ To stop it. Oh, my God ! ” 

There was a silence, broken by a quick tread on the 
stairs. The next moment Sir Peter appeared, staring 
at us there, candle flaring in his hand, his fingers striped 
with running wax. 

“ What does this mean ? ” he asked, confused. 
“ Where is Lady Coleville? ” 

“ She has gone to the Coq d’Or,” I said. Your 
pistols are hidden, sir.” 

He paled, gazing at Elsin Grey. 

131 


THE RECKONING 


“ She guessed that I meant to — to exchange a shot 
with Captain Butler? ” he stammered. 

“ It appears,” said I, “ that Mr. Butler, with that 
delicacy for which he is notorious, stopped here on his 
way to the tavern. You may imagine Lady Coleville 
could not let this matter proceed.” 

He gazed miserably at Elsin, passing his hand over 
his haggard face. Then, slowly turning to me : “ My 
honor is engaged. Cams. What is best now? I am 
in your hands.” 

I laid my arm in his, quietly turning him and 
urging him to the stairs. “ Leave it to me,” I whis- 
pered, taking the candle he held. “ Go to the coach 
and wait there. I will be with you in a moment.” 

The door of Elsin’s chamber closed behind us. He 
descended the black stairv^ay, feeling his way by touch 
along the slim rail of the banisters, and I waited there, 
lighting him from above until the front doors clashed 
behind him. Then I turned back to the closed door of 
Elsin’s chamber and knocked loudly. 

She flung it wide again, standing this time fully 
dressed, a gilt-edged tricorn on her head, and in her 
hands riding- whip and gloves. 

“ I know what need be done,” she said haughtily. 
“ Through this meshed tangle of treachery and dis- 
honor there leads but one clean path. That I shall 
tread, Mr. Renault ! ” 

“ Let the words go,” I said between tightening lips, 
“ but give me that pair of pistols now ! ” 

“ For Sir Peter’s use? ” 

“ No, for mine.” 


132 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


“I shall not!” 

“ Oh, you would rather see me hanged, like Captain 
Hale? ” 

She whitened where she stood, tugging at her gloves, 
teeth set in her lower lip. 

“ You shall neither fight nor hang,” she said, her 
blue eyes fixed on space, busy with her gloves the while 
— so busy that her whip dropped, and I picked it up. 

There was a black loup-mask hanging from her 
girdle. When her gloves were fitted to suit her she 
jerked the mask from the string and set it over her eyes. 

“ My whip? ” she asked curtly. 

I gave it. 

“ Now,” she said, “ your pistol-case lies hid beneath 
my bed-covers. Take it, Mr. Renault, but it shall 
serve a purpose that neither you nor Walter Butler 
dream of ! ” 

I stared at her without a word. She opened the 
beaded purse at her girdle, took from it a heaping 
handful of golden guineas, and dropped them on her 
dresser, where they fell with a pleasant sound, rolling 
together in a shining heap. Then, looking through her 
mask at me, she fumbled at her throat, caught a thin 
golden chain, snapped it in two, and drew a tiny ivory 
miniature from her breast; and still looking straight 
into my eyes she dropped it face upward on the polished 
floor. It bore the likeness of Walter Butler. She set 
her spurred heel upon it and crushed it, grinding the 
fragments into splinters. Then she walked by me, 
slowly, her eyes still on mine, the hem of her foot- 
mantle slightly lifted; and so, turning her head to 
133 


THE BECKONING 


watch me, she passed the door, closed it behind her, and 
was gone. 

What the strange maid meant to do I did not know, 
but I knew what lay before me now. First I flung aside 
the curtains of her bed, tore the fine linen from it, bur- 
rowing in downy depths, under pillow, quilt, and val- 
ance, until my hands encountered something hard; and 
1 dragged out the pistol-case and snapped it open. The 
silver-chased weapons lay there in perfect order; under 
the drawer that held them was another drawer contain- 
ing finest priming-powder, shaped wads, ball, and a case 
of flints. 

So all was ready and in order. I closed the case 
and hurried up the stairway to my room, candle in hand. 
Ha ! The wainscot cupboard I had so cunningly de- 
vised was swinging wide. In it had been concealed that 
blotted sheet rejected from the copy of my letter to his 
Excellency — nothing more ; yet that alone was quite 
enough to hang me, and I knew it as I stood there, my 
candle lighting an empty cupboard. 

Suddenly terror laid an icy hand upon me. I shook 
to my knees, listening. Why had he not denounced me, 
then? And in the same instant the answer came: He 
was to profit by my disgrace ; he was to be aggrandized 
by my downfall. The drama he had prepared was to 
be set in scenery of his own choosing. His savant 
fingers grasped the tiller, steering me inexorably to 
my destruction. 

Yet, as I stood there, teeth set, tearing my finery 
from me, flinging coat one way, waistcoat another, and 
dressing me with blind haste in riding-clothes and boots, 
134i 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


I felt that just a single chance was left to me with 
honor; and I seized the passes that Sir Henry had 
handed me for Sir Peter and his lady, and stuffed them 
into my breast-pocket. 

Gloved, booted, spurred, I caught up the case of 
pistols, ran down the stairs, flung open the door, and 
slammed it behind me. 

Sir Peter stood waiting by the coach ; and when he 
saw me with his pistol-case he said: “ Well done. Cams! 
I had no mind to go hammering at a friend’s door to 
beg a brace of pistols at such an hour.” 

I placed the case after he had entered the coach. Dr. 
Carmody made room for me, but I shook my head. 

“ I ride,” I said. “ Wait but an instant more.” 

“ Why do you ride ? ” asked Sir Peter, surprised. 

“ You will understand later,” I said gaily. “ Be 
patient, gentlemen; ” and I ran for the stables. Sleepy 
hostlers in smalls and bare feet tumbled out in the glare 
of the coach-house lanthorn at my shout. 

“ The roan,” I said briefly. “ Saddle for your 
lives ! ” 

The stars were no paler in the heavens as I stood 
there on the grass, waiting, yet dawn must be very near 
now; and, indeed, the birds’ chorus broke out as I set 
foot to stirrup, though still all was dark around me. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” I said, spurring up to the car- 
riage-door. I nodded to the coachman, and we were 
off at last, I composed and keenly alert, cantering at 
Sir Peter’s coach-wheels, perfectly aware that I was 
riding for my liberty at last, or for a fall that meant 
the end of all for me. 


135 


THE RECKONING 


There was a chaise standing full in the light of the 
tavern windows when we clattered up — a horse at the 
horse-block, too, and more horses tied to the hitching- 
ring at the side-door. 

At the sound of our wheels Mr. Jessop appeared, 
hastening from the cherry grove, and we exchanged 
salutes very gravely, I asking pardon for the delay, he 
protesting at apology ; saying that an encounter by 
starlight was, after all, irregular, and that his prin- 
cipal desired to wait for dawn if it did not inconvenience 
us too much. 

Then, hat in hand, he asked Sir Peter’s indulgence 
for a private conference with me, and led me away by 
the arm into a sweet-smelling lane, all thick with honey- 
suckle and candleberry shrub. 

“ Carus,” he said, “ this is painfully irregular. We 
are proceeding as passion dictates, not according 
to code. Mr. Butler has no choice but to accept, 
yet he is innocent of wrong intent, and has so 
informed me.” 

“ Does he deny his marriage ? ” I asked. 

“Yes, sir, most solemnly. The lady was his mis- 
tress, since discarded. He is quite guiltless of this 
affront to Sir Peter Coleville, and desires nothing better 
than to say so.” 

“ That concerns us all,” I said seriously. “ I am 
acting for Sir Peter, and I assume the responsibility 
without consulting him. Where is Mr. Butler ” 

“ In the tap-room parlor.” 

“ Say to him that Sir Peter will receive him in the 
coffee-room,” I said quietly. 

136 


A NIGHT AND A 3IORNING 


Jessop impulsively laid his honest hand upon my 
shoulder as we turned toward the tavern. ^ 

“ Thank you, Carus,” he said. “ I am happy that 
I have to deal with you instead of some fire-eating, sus- 
picious bullhead sniffing for secret mischief where none 
lies hid.” 

“ I hear that Lady Coleville is come to stop the duel 
at any cost,” I observed, halting at the door. “ May 
we not hope to avoid a distressing scene, Jessop ” 

“ We must,” he answered, as I left him in the hall- 
way and entered the coffee-room where Sir Peter waited, 
seated alone, his feet to the empty fireplace. 

“ Where is Lady Coleville ” he asked, as I stepped 
up. “ She must not remain here. Cams.” 

“ You are not to fight,” I said, smiling. 

“ Not to fight ! ” he repeated, slowly rising, eyes 
ablaze. 

“ Pray trust me with your honor,” I replied im- 
patiently, opening the door to a servant’s knock. And 
to the wide-eyed fellow I said : “ Go and say to Lady 
Coleville that Sir Peter is not to fight. Say to her ” 

I stopped short. Lady Coleville appeared in an 
open doorway across the hall, her gaze passing my 
shoulder straight to Sir Peter, who stood facing her 
behind me. 

“ What pleasantry is this ? ” she asked, advancing, 
a pale smile stamped on her lovely face. 

I made way. She stepped before me, walking 
straight to Sir Peter. I followed, closing the door 
behind me. 

“ Have I ever, ever in all these years, counseled you 

im 


THE BECKONING 


to dishonor? ” she asked. “ Then listen now. There 
is no honor in this thing you seek to do, but in it there 
lies a dreadful wrong to me.” 

“ He offered insult to our kin — our guest. I can not 
choose but ask the only reparation he can give,” said 
Sir Peter steadily. 

‘‘ And leave me to the chance of widowhood ? ” 

Sir Peter whitened to a deathly hue; his distressed 
eyes traveled from her to me; he made to speak, but 
no sound came. 

“ This is all useless,” I said quietly, as a knock came 
at the door. I stepped back and opened it to Walter 
Butler. 

When he saw me his dark eyes lit up with that yellow 
glare I knew already. Then he turned, bowing to Lady 
Coleville and to Sir Peter, who, pale and astounded, 
stared at the man as though the fiend himself stood 
there before him. 

“ Sir Peter,” began his enemy, “ I have 
thought ” 

But I cut him short with a contemptuous laugh. 

“ Sir Peter,” I said, “ Mr. Butler is here to say that 
he is not wedded to his Tryon County mistress — that 
is all; and as he therefore has not offended you, there 
is no reason for you to challenge him. Now, sir, I pray 
you take Lady Coleville and return. Go, in God’s name. 
Sir Peter, for time spurs me, and I have business here 
to keep me ! ” 

“ Let Sir Peter remain,” said Butler coldly. “ My 
quarrel is not with him, nor his with me.” 

“ No,” said I gaily, “ it is with me, I think.” 

138 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


“ Cams,” cried Lady Coleville, “ I forbid you ! 
What senseless thing is this you seek ? ” 

“Pray calm yourself, madam,” said Mr. Butler; 
“ he stands in more danger of the gallows than of me.” 

Sir Peter pushed forward. I caught his arm, 
forcing him aside, but he struggled, saying : “ Did you 
not hear the man ? Let me go. Cams ; do you think 
such an insult to you can pass me like a puff of sea- 
wind? ” 

“ It strikes me first,” I said. “ It is to me that Mr. 
Butler answers.” 

“ No, gentlemen, to me ! ” said a low voice behind us 
— the voice of Elsin Grey. 

Amazed, we turned, passion still marring our white 
faces. Calm, bright-eyed, a smile that I had never seen 
imprinted on her closed lips, she walked to the table, 
unlocked the case of pistols, lifted them, and laid them 
there in the yellow lamplight. 

“ Elsin ! Elsin ! ” stammered Lady Coleville ; “ have 
you, too, gone mad? ” 

“ This is my quarrel,” she said, turning on me so 
fiercely that I stepped back. “ If any shot is fired in 
deference to me, / fire it ; if any bullet is sped to defend 
my honor, I speed it, gentlemen. Why ” — ^and she 
turned like a flash upon Sir Peter — “ why do you 
assume to interfere in this? Is not an honest man’s 
duty to his OAvn wife first? Small honor you do yourself 
or her! — scant love must you bear her to risk your life 
to chance in a quarrel that concerns not you ! ” 

Astounded and dumb, we stood there as though 
rooted to the floor. 


139 


THE RECKONING 


She looked at Butler and laughed ; picked up a pis- 
tol, loaded it with incredible deftness, laid it on the 
table, and began loading the other. 

‘‘ Elsin ! Elsin ! ” cried Lady Coleville, catching her 
by the waist, “ what is this wild freak of yours.? Have 
you all gone mad to-night.? ” 

“ You shake my hand and spill the powder,” said 
the Hon. Miss Grey, smiling. 

“ Elsin,” murmured Walter Butler, “ has this fellow 
Renault poisoned you against me.? ” 

“Why, no, sir. You are married to a wife 
and dare to court me! There lies the poison, Mr. 
Butler!” 

“ Hush, Elsin ! ” murmured Lady Coleville. “ It 
was a mistake, dear. Mr. Butler is not married to the 
— the lady — to anybody. He swears it ! ” 

“Not wedded.?” She stared, then turned scarlet 
to her hair. And Walter Butler, I think, mistook the 
cause and meaning of that crimson shame, for he smiled, 
and drawing a paper from his coat, spread it to Sir 
Peter’s eyes. 

“ I spoke of the gallows. Sir Peter, and you felt 
yourself once more affronted. Yet, if you will glance 
at this ” 

“ What is it.? ” asked Sir Peter, looking him in 
the eye. 

“ Treason, Sir Peter — a, letter — part of one — ^to the 
rebel Washington, written by a spy ! ” 

“A lie! I wrote it!” said the Hon. Miss Grey. 

Walter Butler turned to her, amazed, doubting his 
ears. 


140 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


“ A jest,” she continued carelessly, “ to amuse Mr. 
Renault.” 

“ Amuse him I It is in his own hand ! ” stammered 
Butler. 

“ Apparently. But I wrote it, imitating his hand 
to plague him. It is indifferently done,” she added, 
with a shrug. “ I hid it in the cupboard he uses for 
his love-letters. How came it in your fingers, Mr. 
Butler.?” 

In blank astonishment he stood there, the letter half 
extended, his eyes almost starting from his face. Slowly 
she moved forward, confronting him, insolent eyes meet- 
ing his; and, ere he could guess what she purposed, 
she had snatched the blotted fragment from him and 
crushed it in her hand, always eying him until he 
crimsoned in the focus of her white contempt. 

“ Go ! ” she said. Her low voice was passionless. 

He turned his burning eyes from her to Lady Cole- 
ville, to Sir Peter, then bent his gaze on me. What he 
divined in my face I know not, but the flame leaped in 
his eyes, and that ghastly smile stretched the muscles 
of his visage. 

“ My zeal, it seems, has placed me at a sorry disad- 
vantage,” he said. “ Error piled on error growing from 
a most unhappy misconstruction of my purposes has 
changed faith to suspicion, amity to coldness. I know 
not what to say to clear myself — ” He turned his 
melancholy face to Elsin ; all anger had faded from it, 
and only deepest sadness shadowed the pale brow. “ I 
ventured to believe, in days gone by, that my devotion 
was not utterly displeasing — that perhaps the excesses 
11 141 


THE RECKONING 


of a stormy and impetuous youth might be condoned 

in the humble devotion of an honest passion ” 

The silence was intense. He turned dramatically to 
Sir Peter, his well-shaped hand opening in graceful 
salute as he bowed. 

“ I ask you, sir, to lend a gentle judgment till I 
clear myself. And of your lady, I humbly beg that 
mercy also.” Again he bowed profoundly, hand on 
hilt, a perfect figure of faultless courtesy, graceful, 
composed, proudly enduring, proudly subduing pride. 

Then he slowly raised his dark head and looked at 
me. “ Mr. Renault,” he said, “ it is my misfortune 
that our paths have crossed three times. I trust they 
cross no more, but may run hereafter in pleasant par- 
allel. I was hasty, I was wrong to judge you by what 
you said concerning the Oneidas. I am impatient, over- 
sensitive, quick to fire at what I deem an Insult to my 
King. I serve him as my hot blood dictates — and, burn- 
ing with resentment that you should dare Imperil my 
design, I searched your chamber to destroy the letter 
yoii had threatened warning the Oneidas of their coming 
punishment. How can you blame me if I took this 
lady’s playful jest for something else? ” 

‘‘ I do not blame you. Captain Butler,” I said dis- 
dainfully. 

“ Then may we not resume an Intercourse as enter- 
taining as it was full of profit to myself? ” 

“ Time heals — but Time must not be spurred too 
hard,” I answered, watching him. 

His stealthy eyes dropped as he Inclined his head 
in acquiescence. 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


Then Sir Peter spoke, frankly, impetuously, his 
good heart dictating ever to his reason; and what he 
said was amiable and kind, standing there, his sweet 
lady’s arm resting on his own. And she, too, spoke 
graciously but gravely, with a gentle admonition trail- 
ing at the end. 

But when he turned to Elsin Grey, she softened 
nothing, and her gesture committed him to silence while 
she spoke : “ End now what you have said so well, nor 
add one w'ord to that delicate pyramid of eloquence 
which you have raised so high to your own honor. Cap- 
tain Butler. I am slow-witted and must ask advice from 
that physician. Time, whom Mr. Renault, too, has called 
in council.” 

“ Am I, then, banished? ” he asked below his breath, 

“ Ask yourself, Mr. Butler. And if you find no 
reply, then I shall answer you.” 

All eyes were on her. What magic metamorphosis 
had made this woman from a child in a single night! 
Where had vanished that vague roundness of cheek and 
chin in this drawn beauty of maturity? that un- 
troubled eye, that indecision of caprice, that charming 
restlessness, that childish confidence in others, accepting 
as a creed what grave lips uttered as a guidance to the 
lesser years that rested lightly on her? 

And Walter Butler, too, had noted some of this, 
perplexed at the reserve, the calm self-confidence, the 
unimagined strength and cold composure which he had 
once swayed by his passion, as a fair and clean-stemmed 
sapling tosses in tempests that uproot maturer growth. 

His furtive, unconvinced eyes sought the floor as he 
143 


THE RECKONING 


took his leave with every ceremony due himself and 
us. Dawn already whitened the east. He mounted by 
the tavern window, and I saw him against the pallid 
sky in silhouette, riding slowly toward the city, Jessop 
beside him, and their horses’ manes whipping the rising 
sea- wind from the west. 

“ What a nightmare this has been ! ” whispered 
Lady Coleville, her husband’s hands imprisoned in 
her own. And to Elsin : “ Child ! what scenes have 
we dragged you through ! Heaven forgive us ! — for 
you have learned a sorry wisdom here concerning men ! ” 

“ I have learned,” she said steadily, “ more than you 
think, madam. Will you forgive me if I ask a word 
alone with Mr. Renault ” 

“ Not here, child. Look ! Day comes creeping on 
us yonder in the hills. Come home before you have 
your talk with Cams. You may ride with him if you 
desire, but follow us.” 

Sir Peter turned to gather up his pistols ; but Elsin 
laid her hand on them, saying that I would care for 
everything. 

“ Sure, she means to have her way with us as well 
as with Walter Butler,” he said humorously. “ Come, 
sweetheart, leave them to this new wisdom Elsin found 
along the road somewhere between the Coq d’Qr and 
Wall Street. They may be wiser than they seem; they 
could not well be less wise than they are.” 

The set smile on Elsin’s lips changed nothing as Sir 
Peter led his lady, all reluctant, from the coffee-room, 
where the sunken candles flickered in the pallid light 
of morning. 

144 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


From the front windows we saw the coach dtive up, 
and Lady Coleville, looking back in protest, enter; and 
after her Sir Peter, and Dr. Carmody with his cases. 

“ Come to the door and make as though we meant 
to mount and follow,” she said quietly. “ Here, take 
these pistols. Raise the pan and lower the hammers. 
They are loaded. Thrust them somewhere — ^beneath 
your coat. Now follow me.” 

I obeyed in silence. As we came out of the tavern- 
door Lady Coleville nodded, and her coach moved off, 
passing our horses, which the hostlers were bringing 
round. 

I put Elsin up, then swung astride my roan, 
following her out into the road — a rod or two only ere 
she wheeled into the honeysuckle lane, reining in so that 
I came abreast of her. 

“ Now ride ! ” she said in an unsteady voice. “ I 
know the man you have to deal with. There is no mercy 
in him, I tell you, and no safety now for you until you 
make the rebel lines.” 

“ I know it,” I said ; “ but what of you ? ” 

“What of me.^^ ” She laughed a bitter laugh, 
striking her horse so that he bounded forward down 
the sandy lane, I abreast of her, stride for stride. 
“What of me? Why, I lied to him, that is all, Mr. 
Renault. And he knew itf 

“ Is that all.f^ ” I asked. 

“ No, not all. He told the truth to you and to Sir 
Peter. And I knew it.” 

“ In what did he tell the truth ” 

“ In what he said about — his mistress.” Her face 

145 


THE RECKONING 


crimsoned, but she held her head steady and high, nor 
faltered at the word. 

“ How is it that you know ? ” 

“ How does a woman know.^ Tell me and I’ll con- 
fess it. I know because a woman knows such things. 
Let it rest there — a matter scarcely fitted for discussion 
between a maid and a man — though I am being soundly 
schooled, God wot, in every branch of infamy.” 

“ Then turn here,” I said, reining in, “ and ride 
no more with what men call a spy.” 

But she galloped on, head set, flushed and ex- 
pressionless, and I spurred to overtake her. 

“ Turn back ! ” I said hoarsely. “ It may go hard 
with you if I am taken at the lines ! ” 

“ Those passes that Sir Henry gave you — you 
have them.^ ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ For Sir Peter and his lady ? ” 

“ So they are made out.” 

“ Do they know you at Kingsbridge ? ” 

“ Yes. The Fifty-fourth guard it.” 

“ Then how can you hope to pass ? ” 

“ I shall pass one way or another,” I said between 
my teeth. 

She drew from her breast a crumpled paper, un- 
folded it, and passed it to me, galloping beside me all 
the while. I scanned it carefully ; it was a pass signed 
by Sir Henry Clinton, permitting her and me to pass 
the lines, and dated that very night. 

“ How in Heaven’s name did you secure this paper 
in the last nick of time.? ” I cried, astounded. 

146 


A NIGHT AND A 3IORNING 


“ I knew you needed it — from what you said there 
in my chamber. Do you remember that Sir Henry left 
the Fort for a council? It is not far to Queen Street; 
and when I left you I mounted and galloped thither.” 

“ But — but what excuse ” 

“ Ask me not, Cams,” she said impatiently, while 
a new color flowed through cheek and temple. “ Sir 
Henry first denied me, then he began to laugh; and I 
— I galloped here with the ink all wet upon the pass. 
Whither leads this lane ? ” 

“ To the Kingsbridge road.” 

“ Would they stop and search us if dissatisfied? ” 

« I think not.” 

“ Well, I shall take no risk,” she said, snatching the 
blotted paper from her bosom — the paper she had taken 
from Walter Butler, and which was written in my hand. 
“ Hide it under a stone in the hedgerow, and place 
the passes that you had for Sir Peter with it,” she said, 
drawing bridle and looking back. 

I dismounted, turned up a great stone, thrust the 
papers under, then dropped it to its immemorial bed 
once more. 

“ Quick ! ” she whispered. “ I heard a horse’s iron- 
shod foot striking a pebble.” 

“ Behind us? ” 

“ Yes. Now gallop ! ” 

Our horses plunged on again, fretting at the curb. 
She rode a mare as black as a crow save for three silvery 
fetlocks, and my roan’s stride distressed her nothing. 
Into the Kingsbridge road we plunged in the white 
river-mist that walled the hedges from our view, and 
147 


THE RECKONING 


there, as we galloped through the sand, far behind us 
I thought to hear a sound like metal clipping stone. 

“ You shall come no farther,” I said. “ You can 
not be found in company with me. Turn south, and 
strike the Greenwich road.” 

“ Too late,” she said calmly. “ You forget I com- 
promised myself with that same pass you carry.” 

“ Why in God’s name did you include yourself in 
it.? ” I asked. 

“ Because the pass was denied me until I asked it 
for us both.” 

“ You mean ” 

“ I mean that I lied again to Sir Henry Clinton, 
Mr. Renault. Spare me now.” 

Amazed, comprehending nothing, I fell silent for 
a space, then turned to scan her face, but read nothing 
in its immobility. 

“ Why did you do all this for me, a spy ? ” I asked. 

“ For that reason,” she answered sharply — “ lest 
the disgrace bespatter my kinsman. Sir Peter, and his 
sweet lady.” 

“ But — what will be said when you return alone and 
I am gone.? ” 

“ Nothing, for I do not return.” 

“ You— you ” 

“ I ask you to spare me. Once the lines are passed 
there is no danger that disgrace shall fall on any one — 
not even on you and me.” 

“ But how — what will folk say ” 

“ They’ll say we fled together to be wedded ! ” she 
cried, exasperated. “ If you will force me, learn then 
14)8 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


that I made excuse and got my pass for that! I told 
Sir Henry that I loved you and that I was plighted to 
Walter Butler. And Sir Henry, hating Mr. Butler, 
laughed until he could not see for the tears, and 
scratched me off my pass for Gretna Green, with his 
choicest blessing on the lie I offered in return! There, 
sir, is what I have done. I said I loved you, and I 
lied. I shall go with you, then ask a flag of the 
rebels to pass me on to Canada. And so you see, Mr. 
Renault, that no disgrace can fall on me or mine 
through any infamy, however black, that others must 
account for ! ” 

And she drew her sun-mask from her belt and put 
it on. 

Her wit, her most amazing resource, her anger, so 
amazed me that I rode on, dazed, swaying in the stride 
of the tireless gallop. Then in a flash, alert once more, 
I saw ahead the mist rising from the Harlem, the mill 
on the left, with its empty windows and the two poplar- 
trees beside it, the stone piers and wooden railing of the 
bridge, the sentinels on guard, already faced our way, 
watching our swift approach. 

As we drew bridle in a whirlwind of sand the guard 
came tumbling out at the post’s loud bawling, and the 
officer of the guard followed, sauntering up to our hard- 
breathing horses and peering up into our faces. 

“ Enderly ! ” I exclaimed. 

“ Well, what the devil, Carus — ” he began, then 
bit his words in two and bowed to the masked lady, 
perplexed eyes traveling from her to me and back again. 
When I held out the pass for his inspection, he took 
149 


THE RECKONING 


it, scrutinizing it gravely, nodded, and strolled back to 
the mill. 

“ Hurry, Enderly ! ” I called after him. 

He struck a smarter gait, but to me it seemed a 
year ere he reappeared with a pass viseed, and handed 
it to me. 

“ Have a care,” he said ; “ the country beyond 
swarms with cowboys and skinners, and the rebel horse 
ride everywhere unchecked. They’ve an outpost at 
Valentine’s, and riflemen along the Bronx ” 

At that instant a far sound came to my ears, distant 
still on the road behind us. It was the galloping of 
horses. Elsin Grey leaped from her saddle, lifting her 
mask and smiling sweetly down at Captain Enderly. 

“ It’s a sharp run to Gretna Green,” she said. “ If 
you can detain the gentleman who follows us we wdll not 
forget the service. Captain Enderly ! ” 

“ By Heaven ! ” he exclaimed, his perplexed face 
clearing into grinning comprehension. And to the sen- 
tries : “ Fall back there, lads ! Free w^ay f or’ard ! ” he 
cried. “Now, Cams! Madam, your most obedient!” 

The steady thud of galloping horses sounded nearer 
behind us. I turned, expecting to see the horsemen, 
but they were still screened by the hill. 

“ Luck to you ! ” muttered Enderly, as we swung 
into a canter, our horses’ hoofs drumming thunder on 
the quivering planks that jumped beneath us as we 
spurred to a gallop. Ah! They were shouting now, 
behind us ! They, too, had heard the echoing tattoo we 
beat across the bridge. 

“ Pray God that young man holds them ! ” she whis- 

150 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


pcrcd, pale face turned. “ There they are ! They spy 
us now ! They are riding at the bridge ! Mercy on us ! 
the soldiers have a horse by the bit, forcing him back. 
They have stopped Mr. Butler. Now^ Carus ! ” 

Into the sand once more we plunged, riding at a 
sheer run through the semidarkness of the forest that 
closed in everywhere; on, on, the wind whistling in our 
teeth, her hair blowing, and her gilt-laced hat flying 
from the silken cord that held it to her shoulder. How 
grandly her black mare bore her — the slight, pale-faced 
figure sitting the saddle with such perfect grace and 
poise ! 

The road swung to the east, ascending in long 
spirals. Then through the trees I caught the glim- 
mer of water — the Bronx River — and beyond I saw a 
stubble-field all rosy in the first rays of the rising sun. 

The ascent was steeper now. Our horses slackened 
to a canter, to a trot, then to a walk as the road rose 
upward, set with boulders and loose stones. 

I had just turned to caution my companion, and 
was pointing ahead to a deep washout which left but 
a narrow path between two jutting boulders, when, with- 
out the slightest sound, from the shadow of these same 
rocks sprang two men, long brown rifles leveled. And 
in silence we drew bridle at the voiceless order from the 
muzzles of those twin barrels bearing upon us without 
a tremor. 

An instant of suspense; the rifle of the shorter fel- 
low swept from Elsin Grey to me; and I, menaced by 
both weapons, sat on my heavily breathing horse, 
whose wise head and questioning ears reconnoitered these 
151 


THE RECKONING 


strange people who checked us at the rocky summit of 
the hill. For they were strange, silent folk, clothed in 
doeskin from neck to ankle, and alike as two peas in 
their caped hunting-shirts, belted in with scarlet wam- 
pum, and the fringe falling in soft cascades from 
shoulder to cuflP, from hip to ankle, following the laced 
seams. 

My roan had become nervous, shaking his head and 
backing, and Elsin’s restive mare began sidling across 
their line of fire. 

“ Rein in, madam ! ” came a warning voice — “ and 
you, sir! Stand fast there! Now, young man, from 
which party do you come? ” 

“ From the lower,” I answered cheerfully, “ and 
happy to be clear of them.” 

“ And with which party do you foregather, my gay 
cock o’ the woods ? ” 

“ With the upper party, friend.” 

“ Friend ! ” sneered the taller fellow, lowering his 
rifle and casting it into the hollow of his left arm. “ It 
strikes me that you are somewhat sudden with your 
affections — ” He came sauntering forward, a giant in 
his soft, clinging buckskins, talking all the while in an 
irritable voice : “ F riend ? Maybe, and maybe not,” he 
grumbled ; “ all eggs don’t hatch into dickey-birds, nor 
do all rattlers beat the long roll.” He laid a sudden 
hand on my bridle, looking up at me with swaggering 
impudence, which instantly changed into amazed recog- 
nition. 

“ Gad-a-mercy ! ” he cried, delighted ; “ is it you, 
Mr. Renault? ” 


152 



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A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


“ It surely is,” I said, drawing a long breath of 
relief to find in these same forest-runners my two 
drovers. Mount and the little Weasel. 

“ How far is it to the lines, friend Mount? ” 

“ Not far,- not very far, Mr. Renault,” he said. 
“ There should be a post of Jersey militia this side o’ 
Valentine’s, and we’re like to see a brace of Sheldon’s 
dragoons at any moment. Lord, sir, but I’m contented 
to see you, for I was loath to leave you in York, and 
Walter Butler there untethered, ranging the streets, 
free as a panther on a sunset cliff ! ” 

The Weasel, rifle at a peaceful trail, came trotting 
up beside his giant comrade, standing on tiptoe to link 
arms with him, his solemn owl-like eyes roaming from 
Elsin Grey to me. 

I named them to Elsin. She regarded them list- 
lessly from her saddle, and they removed their round 
skull-caps of silver moleskin and bowed to her. 

“ I never thought to be so willing to meet rebel rifle- 
men,” she said, patting her horse’s mane and glancing 
at me. 

“ Lord, Cade ! ” whispered Mount to his companion, 
“ he’s stolen a Tory maid from under their very noses ! 
Make thy finest bow, man, for the credit o’ Morgan’s 
Men ! ” 

And again the strange pair bowed low, caps in hand, 
the Weasel with quiet, quaint dignity. Mount with his 
elaborate rustic swagger, and a flourish peculiar to the 
forest-runner, gay, reckless, yet withal' respectful. 

A faint smile touched her eyes as she inclined her 
proud little head. Mount looked up at me. I nodded ; 
153 


THE RECKONING 


and the two riflemen wheeled in their tracks and trotted 
forward, Mount leading, and his solemn little comrade 
following at heel, close as a hound. When they had 
disappeared over the hill’s rocky summit our horses 
moved forward at a w^alk, breasting the crest, then 
slowly descended the northern slope, picking their way 
among the loosened slate and pebbles. 

And now for the first time came to me a delicious 
thrill of exaltation in my new-found liberty. Free at 
last of that prison city. Free at last to look all men 
between the eyes. Free to bear arms, and use them, 
too, under a flag I had not seen in four long years save 
as they brought in our captured colors — a ragged, 
blood-blackened rag or two to match those silken stand- 
ards lost at BenningtoU and Saratoga. 

I looked up into the cloudless sky, I looked around 
me. I saw the tall trees tinted by the sun, I felt a free 
wind blowing from that wild north I loved so well. 

I drew my lungs full. I opened wide my arms, 
easing each cramped muscle. I stretched my legs to 
the stirrup’s length in sweetest content. 

Down through a fragrant birch-grown road, smell- 
ing of fern and wintergreen and sassafras, we moved, 
the cool tinkle of moss-choked watercourses ever in our 
ears, mingling with melodies of woodland birds — shy, 
freedom-loving birds that came not with the robins 
to the city. Ah, I knew these birds, being country-bred 
— ^knew them one and all — the gray hermit, holy choris- 
ter of hymn divine, the white-throat, sweetly repeating 
his allegiance to his motherland of Canada, the great 
scarlet-tufted cock that drums on the bark in stillest 
154 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


depths, the lonely little creeping-birds that whimper up 
and down the trunks of forest trees, and the black- 
capped chickadee that fears not man, but cities — all 
these I listened to, and knew and loved as guerdons of 
that freedom which I had so long craved, and craved 
in vain. 

And now I had it; it was mine! I tasted it, I em- 
braced it with wide arms, I breathed it. And far away 
I heard the woodland hermits singing of freedom, and 
of the sweetness of it, and of the mercies of the Most 
High. 

Thrilled with happiness, I glanced at Elsin Grey 
where she rode a pace or so ahead of me, her fair head 
bent, her face composed but colorless as the lace droop- 
ing from her stock. The fatigue of a sleepless night 
was telling on her, though as yet the reaction of the 
strain had not affected me one whit. 

She raised her head as I forced my horse forward 
to her side. “ What is it, Mr. Renault ? ” she asked 
coldly. 

“ I’m sorry you are fatigued, Elsin ” 

“ I am not fatigued.” 

“ What ! after all you have done for me ” 

“ I have done nothing for you^ Mr. Renault.” 

“ Nothing? — when I owe you everything that ” 

‘‘ You owe me nothing that I care to accept.” 

“ My thanks ” 

“ I tell you you owe me nothing. Let it rest so I ” 

Her unfriendly eyes warned me to silence, but I 
said bluntly: 

“ That Mr. Cunningham is not this moment fiddling 

155 


THE RECKONING 


with my neck, I owe to you. I offer my thanks, and I 
remain at your service. That is all.” 

“ Do you think,” she answered quietly, “ that a rebel 
hanged could interest me unless that hanging smirched 
my kin.?” 

“ Elsin ! Elsin ! ” I said, “ is there not bitterness 
enough in the world but you and I must turn our friend- 
ship into hate.? ” 

“ What do you care whether it turn to hate or — 
love.? ” She laughed, but there was no mirth in her 
eyes. “You are free; you have done your duty; your 
brother rebels will reward you. What further have I 
to do with you, Mr. Renault.? You have used me, you 
have used my kin, my friends. Not that I blame you 
— nay, Mr. Renault, I admire, I applaud, I understand 
more than you think. I even count him brave who can 
go out as you have done, scornful of life, pitiless of 
friendships formed, reckless of pleasure, of what men 
call their code of honor; indifferent to the shameful 
death that hovers like a shadow, and the scorn of all, 
even of friends — for a spy has no friends, if discovered. 
All this, sir, I comprehend, spite of my few years which 
once — when we were friends — you in your older wisdom 
found amusing.” She turned sharply away, brushing 
her eyelashes with gloved fingers. 

Presently she looked straight ahead again, a set 
smile on her tight lips. 

“ The puppets in New York danced to the tune you 
whistled,” she said, “ and because you danced, too, they 
never understood that you were master of the show. 
Oh, we all enjoyed the dance, sir — I, too, serving your 
156 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


designs as all served. Now you have done with us, and 
it remains for us to make our exits as gracefully as 
may be.” 

She made a little salute with her riding-whip — 
gracious, quite free of mockery. 

“ The fortune of war, Mr. Renault,” she said. 
“ Salute to the conqueror ! ” 

“ Only a gallant enemy admits as much,” I an- 
swered, flushing. 

“ Mr. Renault, am I your enemy ^ ” 

“ Elsin, I fear you are.” 

“ Why ? Because you waked me from my dream ^ ” 

“ What dream.? That nightmare tenanted by Wal- 
ter Butler that haunted you.? Is it not fortunate that 
you awoke in time, even if you had loved him? But 
you never did ! ” 

“No, I never loved him. But that was not the 
dream you waked me from.” 

“ More than that, child, you do not know what love 
means. How should you know.? Why, even I do not 
know, and I am twenty-three.” 

“ Once,” she said, smiling, “ I told you that there 
is no happiness in love. It is the truth, Mr. Renault; 
there is no joy in it. That much I know of love. Now, 
sir, as you admit you know nothing of it, you can not 
contradict me, can you .? ” 

She smiled gaily, leaning forward in her saddle, 
stroking her horse’s mane. 

“No, I am not your enemy,” she continued. 
“ There is enough of war in the world, is there not, 
Mr. Renault.? And I shall soon be on my way to 
13 157 


THE RECKONING 


Canada. Were I your enemy, how impotent am I to 
compass your destruction — impotent as a love-sick maid 
who chooses as her gallant a gentleman most agreeable, 
gently bred, faultless in conduct and address, upon 
whose highly polished presence she gazes, seeking 
depth, and finds but her own silly face mirrored on the 
surface.” 

She turned from me and raised her head, gazing 
up through interlacing branches into the blue above. 

“ Ah, we must be friends. Cams,” she said wearily ; 
“ we have cost each other too dear.” 

“ I have cost you dear enough,” I muttered. 

“ Not too dear for all you have taught me.” 

“ What have I taught you ? ” 

“ To know a dream from the reality,” she said 
listlessly. 

“ Better you should learn from me than from Wal- 
ter Butler,” I said bluntly. 

“ From him ! Why, he taught me nothing. I fell 
in love again — really in love — for an hour or two — spite 
of the lesson he could not teach me. I tell you he 
taught me nothing — not even to distrust the vows of 
men. If it was a wrong he dared to meditate, it touches 
not me. Cams — touches me no more than his dishonor- 
ing hand, which he never dared to lay upon me.” 

“ What do you mean.? ” I asked, troubled. “ Have 
you taken a brief fancy to another.? Do you imagine 
that you are in love again.? What is it that you mean, 
Elsin.? ” 

“ Mean.? God knows. I am tired to the soul, 
Carus. I have no pride left — not a shred — nothing of 
158 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


resentment. I fancy I love — yes — and the mad fancy 
drags me on, trailing pride, shame, and becoming 
modesty after me in the dust.” She laughed, flinging 
her arm out in an impatient gesture : “ What is this 
war to me, Carus, save as it concerns him.^^ In Canada 
we wag our heads and talk of rebels; here we speak of 
red-coats and patriots; and it’s all one to me, Carus, 
so that no dishonor touches the man I love or my own 
Canada. Your country here is nothing to me except 
for the sake of this one man.” 

She turned toward me from her saddle. 

“ You may be right, you rebels,” she said. “ If 
aught threatened Canada, no loyalty to a King whom 
I have never seen could stir me to forsake my own peo- 
ple. That is why I am so bitter, I think; not because 
Sir Frederick Haldimxand is kin to me, but because your 
people dared to storm Quebec.” 

“ Those who marched thither march no more,” I 
said gravely. 

“ Then let it be peace betwixt us. My enmity 
stops at the grave — and they march no more, as you 
say.” 

“ Do you give me your friendship again, Elsin .? ” 

She raised her eyes and looked at me steadily. 

“ It was yours before you asked me, Carus. It 
has always been yours. It has never faltered for one 
moment even when I said the things that a hurt pride 
forced from me.” She shook her head slowly, reining 
in. I, too, drew bridle. 

“ The happiest moment of my life was when I knew 
that I had been the instrument to unlock for you the 
159 


THE RECKONING 


door of safety,” she said, and stripped the glove from 
her white fingers. “ Kiss my hand and thank me. 
Cams. It is all I ask of friendship.” 

Her hand lay at my lips, pressed gently for an 
instant, then fell to her side. 

“ Dear, dear Elsin ! ” I cried, catching her hand in 
both of mine again, crushing it to my lips. 

“ Don’t, Carus,” she said tremulously. “ If you — 
if you do that — you might — you might conceive a — a 
regard for me.” 

“ Lord, child ! ” I exclaimed, “ you but this moment 
confessed your fancy for a man of whose very name 
and quality I stand in ignorance ! ” 

She drew her hand away, laughing, a tenderness in 
her eyes I never had surprised there before. 

Silly,” she said, “ you know how inconstant I can 
be; you must never again caress me as you did — that 
first evening — do you remember? If we do that — if I 
suffer you to kiss me, maybe we both might find our- 
selves at love’s mercy.” 

“You mean we might really be in love?” I asked 
curiously. 

“ I do not know. Do you think so ? ” 

I laughed gaily, bending to search her eyes. 

“ What is love, Elsin? Truly, I do not know, hav- 
ing never loved, as you mean. Sir Peter wishes it ; and 
here we are, with all the credit of Gretna Green but none 
of the happiness. Elsin, listen to me. Let us strive to 
fall in love; shall we? And the devil take your new 
gallant ! ” 

“ If you desire it ” 


160 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


‘‘ Why not? It would please all, would it not? ” 

“ But, Carus, we must first please one another ” 

“ Let us try, Elsin. I have dreamed of a woman 
— not like you, but statelier, more mature, and of more 
experience, but I never saw such a woman; and truly 
I never before saw so promising a maid as you. Surely 
we might teach one another to love — if you are not 
too young ” 

“ I do not think I am,” she said faintly. 

“ Then let us try. Who knows but you may grow 
into that ideal I cherish? I shall attend you constantly, 
pay court to you, take counsel with you, defer to you 
in all things ” 

“ But I shall be gone northward with the flag, 
Carus.” 

“ A flag may not start for a week.” 

“ But when it does? ” 

“ By that time,” said I, “ we will be convinced in 
one fashion or another.” 

“ Maybe one of us will take fire slowly.” 

‘‘ Let us try it, anyhow,” I insisted. 

She bent her head, riding in silence for a while. 

“ Sweetheart,” I said, “ are you hungry ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, crimson-cheeked, “ have you begun 
already? And am I— am I to say that, too? ” 

“ Not unless you — you want to.” 

“ I dare not, Carus.” 

“ It is not hard,” I said; “ it slipped from my lips, 
following my thoughts. Truly, Elsin, I love you 
dearly— see how easily I say it! I love you in one 
kind of way already. One of these days, before we 

161 


THE RECKONING 


know what we’re doing, we’ll be married, and Sir Peter 
will be the happiest man in New York.” 

“ Sir Peter ! Sir Peter ! ” she repeated impatiently ; 
a frown gathered on her brow. She swung toward me, 
leaning from her saddle, face outstretched. 

“ Carus,” she said, “ kiss me ! Now do it again, on 
the lips. Now again! There! Now that you do it of 
your own accord you are advanced so far. Oh, this is 
dreadful, dreadful! We have but a week, and we are 
that backward in love that I must command you to kiss 
me! Where shall we be this day week — ^how far ad- 
vanced, if you think only of courting me to please Sir 
Peter.? ” 

“ Elsin,” I said, after a moment’s deliberation, 
“ I’m ready to kiss you again.” 

“ For Sir Peter’s sake ? ” 

“ Partly.” 

“No, sir!” she said, turning her head; “that ad- 
vances us nothing.” 

After a silence I said again: 

“ Elsin ! ” 

“ Yes, Carus.” 

“ I’m ready.” 

“ For Sir Peter’s sake.? ” 

“ No, for my own.” 

“ Ah,” she said gaily, turning a bright face to me, 
“ we are advancing ! Now, it is best that I refuse you 
— unless you force me and take what 3^ou desire. I 
accord no more^ — nothing more from this moment — until 
I give myself! and I give not that, either, until you 
take it ! ” she added, and cast her horse forw^ard at a 
162 


A NIGHT AND A MORNING 


gallop, I after her, leaning wide from my saddle, until 
our horses closed in, bounding on in perfect stride 
together. Now was my chance. 

“ Cams ! I beg of you — ” Her voice was stifled, 
for I had put my arm around her neck and pressed her 
half-opened lips to mine. “ You advance too quickly ! ” 
she said, flushed and furious. “ Do you think to win 
a maid by mauling whether she will or no.^^ I took no 
pleasure in that kiss, and it is a shame when both are 
not made happy. Besides, you hurt me with your 
roughness. I pray you keep your distance ! ” 

I did so, perplexed, and a trifle sulky, and for a 
while we jogged on in silence. 

Suddenly she reined in, turning her face over her 
shoulder. 

“ Look, Carus,” she whispered, “ there are horsemen 
coming ! ” 

A moment later a Continental dragoon trotted into 
sight around the curve of the road, then another and 
another. 

We were within the lines at last. 


16S 


CHAPTER VII 


THE BLUE FOX 

Elsin had slept all the bright morning through in 
her little room at the Blue Fox Tavern, whither Colonel 
Sheldon’s horsemen had conducted us. My room ad- 
joined hers, the window looking out upon the Bronx 
where it flowed, shallow and sunny, down from the 
wooded slopes of North Castle and Chatterton’s Hill. 
But I heeded neither the sparkling water nor the trees 
swaying in the summer wind, nor the busy little hamlet 
across the mill-dam, nor Abe Case, the landlord, with 
his good intentions, pressed too cordially, though he 
meant nothing except kindnpss. 

“ Listen to me,” I said, boots in hand, and laying 
down the law ; “ we require neither food nor drink nor 
service nor the bridal-chambers which you insist upon. 
The lady will sleep where she is, I here ; and if you dare 
awaken me before noonday I shall certainly discharge 
these boots in your direction ! ” 

Whereupon he seemed to understand and bowed him- 
self out ; and I, lying there on the great curtained bed, 
watched the sunlight stealing through the flowered can- 
opy until the red roses fell to swaying in an unfelt wind, 
and I, dreaming, wandered in a garden with that lady 
164i 


THE BLUE FOX 


I sometimes saw in visions. And, Lord! how happy we 
were there together, only at moments I felt abashed 
and sorry, for I thought I saw Elsin lying on the grass, 
so still, so limp, that I knew she must be dead, and I 
heard men whispering that she had died o’ love, and 
that I and my lady were to dig the grave at moonrise, 

A fitful slumber followed, threaded by dreams that 
vaguely troubled me — visions of horsemen riding, and 
of painted faces and dark heads shaved for war. Again 
into my dream a voice broke, repeating, “ Thendara I 
Thendara I ” until it grew to a dull and deadened sound, 
like the hollow thud of Wyandotte witch-drums. 

I slept, yet every loosened nerve responded to the 
relaxing tension of excitement. Twice I dreamed that 
some one roused me, and that I was dressing in mad 
haste, only to sink once more into a sleep which glim- 
mered ever with visions passing, passing in processional, 
until at noon I awoke of my own accord, and was bathed 
and partly dressed ere the landlord came politely 
scratching at my door to know my pleasure. 

“ A staff-officer from his Excellency, Mr. Renault,” 
he said, as I bade him enter, tying my stock the while. 

“ Very well,” I said ; “ show him up. And, land- 
lord, when the lady awakes, you may serve us pri- 
vately.” 

He bowed himself out, and presently I heard spurs 
and a sword jingling on the stairs, and turned to receive 
his Excellency’s staflP-officer — a very elegant and polite 
young man in a blue uniform, faced with buff, and 
white-topped boots. 

‘‘Mr. Renault.?” he asked, raising his voice and 

165 


THE RECKONING 


eyebrows a trifle; and I think I never saw such a care- 
less, laughing, well-bred countenance in which were set 
two eyes as shrewdly wise as the eyes of this young 
man. 

“ I am Mr. Renault,” I said amiably, smiling at 
the mirth which twitched the gravity he struggled to 
assume. 

“ Colonel Hamilton of his Excellency’s family,” he 
said, making as elegant a bow as I ever had the honor 
to attempt to match. 

We were very ceremonious, bowing repeatedly as 
we seated ourselves, he lifting his sword and laying it 
across his knees. And I admired his hat, which was 
new and smartly laced, and cocked in the most fashion- 
able manner — which small details carry some weight 
with me, I distrusting men whose dress is slovenly from 
indifference and not from penury. His Excellency was 
ever faultless in attire; and I remember that he wrote 
in general orders on New Year’s day in ’76: “If a 
soldier can not be inducted to take pride in his per- 
son, he will soon become a sloven and indifferent to 
everything.” 

“ Mr. Renault,” began Colonel Hamilton, “ his Ex- 
cellency has your letters. He regrets that a certain 
sphere of usefulness is now closed to you through your 
own rashness.” 

I reddened, bowing. 

“ It appears, however,” continued Colonel Hamil- 
ton placidly, “ that your estimate of yourself is too 
humble. His Excellency thanks you, applauds your 
modesty and faithfulness in the most trying service a 

166 


THE BLUE FOX 


gentleman can render to his country, and desires me to 
express the same ” 

He rose and bowed. I was on my feet, confused, 
amazed, tingling with pleasure. 

“ His Excellency said — that! ” I repeated incredu- 
lously. 

“ Indeed he did, Mr. Renault, and he regrets that 
— ahem — under the circumstances — it is not advisable 
to publicly acknowledge your four years’ service — not 
even privately, Mr. Renault — you understand that such 
services as yours must be, in a great measure, their own 
reward. Yet I know that his Excellency hesitated a 
long while to send me with this verbal message, so keenly 
did he desire to receive you, so grateful is he for the 
service rendered.” 

I was quite giddy with delight now. Never, never 
had I imagined that the Commander-in-Chief could 
single me out for such generous praise — me, a man who 
had lent himself to a work abhorrent — a work taken up 
only because there was none better fitted to accomplish 
a thing that all shrank from. 

Seated once more, I looked up to see Colonel Hamil- 
ton regarding me with decorous amusement. 

“ It may interest you, Mr. Renault, to know what 
certain British agents reported to Sir Henry Clinton 
concerning you.” 

“ What did they say ? ” I asked curiously. 

‘‘ They said> ‘ Mr. Renault is a rich young man who 
thinks more of his clothes than he does of politics, and 
is safer than a guinea wig-stand ! ’ ” 

His face was perfectly grave, but the astonished 

167 


THE RECKONING 


chagrin on my countenance set his keen eyes glimmer- 
ing, and in a moment more we both went off into fits 
of laughter. 

“ Lord, sir ! ” he exclaimed, dusting his eyes with 
a lace handkerchief, “ what a man we lost when you 
lost your head! Why on earth did you affront Walter 
Butler.? ” 

I leaned forward, emphasizing every point with a 
noiseless slap on my knee, and recounted minutely and 
as frankly as I could every step which led to the first 
rupture between Walter Butler and myself. He fol- 
lowed my story, intelligent eyes fixed on me, never losing 
an accent, a shade of expression, as I narrated our 
quarrel concerning the matter of the Oneidas, and how 
I had forgotten myself and had turned on him as an 
Iroquois on a Delaware, a master on an insolent slave. 

“ From that instant he must have suspected me,” 
I said, leaning back in my chair. “ And now. Colonel 
Hamilton, my story is ended, and my usefulness, too, 
I fear, unless his Excellency will find for me some place 
— perhaps a humble commission — say in the dragoons 
of Major Talmadge ” 

“ You travel too modestly,” said Hamilton, laugh- 
ing. “ Why, Mr. Renault, any bullet-headed, reckless 
fellow who has done as much as you have done may ask 
for a commission and have it, too. Look at me! I 
never did anything, yet they found me good enough for 
a gun captain, and they gave me a pair o’ cannon, too. 
But, sir, there are other places with few to fill them — 
far too few, I assure you. Why, what a shame to set 
you with a noisy, galloping herd of helmets, chasing 
168 


THE BLUE FOX 


skinners and cowboys with a brace of gad-a-mercy pis- 
tols in your belt ! — what a shame, I say, when in you 
there lie talents we seek in vain for among the thou- 
sand and one numskulls who can drill a battalion or 
maneuver a brigade ! ” 

“ What talents ? ” I asked, astonished. 

“ Lord ! he doesn’t even suspect them ! ” cried 
Hamilton gaily. “ I wish you might meet a few of 
our talented brigadiers and colonels ; they have no 
doubts concerning their several abilities ! ” Then, sud- 
denly serious : “ Listen, sir. You know the north ; you 
were bred and bom to a knowledge of the Iroquois, their 
language, character, habits, their intimate social con- 
ditions, nay, you are even acquainted with what no other 
living white man comprehends — their secret rites, their 
clan and family laws and ties, their racial instincts, 
their most sacred rituals ! You are a sachem ! Sir 
William Johnson was one, but he is dead. Who else 
living, besides yourself, can speak to the Iroquois with 
clan authority ” 

“ I do not know,” I said, troubled. “ Walter But- 
ler may know something of the Book of Rites, because he 
was raised up in place of some dead Delaware dog! — ” 
I clinched my hand, and stood silent in angry medi- 
tation. Lifting my eyes I saw Hamilton watching me, 
amazed, interested, delighted. 

“ I ask your indulgence,” I said, embarrassed, “ but 
when I think of the insolence of that fellow — and that 
he dared call me brother and claim clan kindred with a 
Wolf — the yellow Delaware mongrel! — ” I laughed, 
glancing shamefacedly at Colonel Hamilton. 

169 


THE RECKONING 


“ In another moment,” I said, “ you will doubt there 
is white blood in me. It is strange how faithfully I 
cling to that dusky foster-mother, the nation that 
adopted me. I was but a lad. Colonel Hamilton, and 
what the Oneidas saw in me, or believed they saw, I 
never have accurately learned — I do not really know to 
this day! — but when a war-chief died they came to my 
father, asking that he permit them to adopt me and 
raise me up. The ceremony took place. I, of course, 
never lived with them — never even left my own roof — 
but I was adopted into the Wolf Clan, the noble clan 
of the Iroquois. And — I have never forgotten it — nor 
them. Wtiat touches an Oneida touches me 1 ” 

He nodded gravely, watching me with bright eyes. 
“ To-day the Long House is not the Five Nations,” 
I continued. “The Tuscaroras are the Sixth Nation; 
the Delawares now have come in, and have been accepted 
as the Seventh Nation. But, as you know, the Long 
House is split. The Onondagas are sullenly neutral — 
or say they are — the Mohawks, Cayugas, Senecas, are 
openly leagued against us; the Oneidas alone are with 
us — what is left of them after the terrible punishment 
they received from the Mohawks and Senecas.” 

“ And now you say that the Iroquois have deter- 
mined to punish the Oneidas again ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, to annihilate them for espousing our 
cause. And,” I added contemptuously, “ Walter But- 
ler dared believe that I would sit idle and never lift a 
warning finger. True, I am first of all a Wolf — but 
next am I an Oneida. And, as I may not sit in national 
council with my clan to r^ise my voice against this 
170 


THE BLUE FOX 


punishment, and, as the Long House is rent asunder 
forever, why, sir, I am an Oneida first of all — after my 
allegiance to my own country — and I shall so conduct 
that Walter Butler and the Delaware dogs of a cleft 
and yellow clan will remember that when an Oneida 
speaks, they remain silent, they obey ! ” 

I began to pace the chamber, arms folded, busy with 
my thoughts. Hamilton sat buried in meditation for 
a space. Finally he arose, extending his hand with 
that winning frankness so endearing to all. I asked 
him to dine with us, but he excused himself, plead- 
ing affairs of moment. 

“ Listen, Mr. Renault. I understand that his Ex- 
cellency has certain designs upon your amiability, and 
he most earnestly desires you to remain here at the 
Blue Fox until such time as he summons you or sends 
you orders. You are an officer of Try on County 
militia, are you not.?^ ” 

“ Only ensign in the Rangers, but I never have even 
seen their colors, much less carried them.” 

“ You know Colonel Willett ” 

“ I have that very great honor,” I said warmly. 

“ It is an honor to know such a man. Excepting 
Schuyler, I think he is the bravest, noblest gentleman 
in County Tryon.” He walked toward the door, head 
bowed in reflection, turned, offered his hand again with 
a charming freedom, and bowed himself out. 

Pride and deepest gratitude possessed my heart that 
his Excellency should have found me worthy of his 
august commendation. In my young head rang the 
words of Colonel Hamilton. I stood in the center of 
171 


THE RECKONING 


the sunny room, repeating to myself the wonderful mes- 
sage, over and over, until it seemed my happiness was 
too great to bear alone; and I leaned close to the di- 
viding door, calling “ Elsin! Elsin! Are you awake? ” 

A sleepy voice bade me enter, and I opened the door 
and stood at the sill, while the brightly flowered curtains 
of her bed rustled and twitched. Presently she thrust 
a sleepy head forth, framed in chintz roses — the flushed 
face of a child, drowsy eyes winking at the sunbeams, 
powdered hair twisted up in a heavy knot. 

“ Goodness me,” she murmured, “ I am so hungry 
— so sleepy — ” She yawned shamelessly, blinked with 
her blue eyes, looked at me, and smiled. 

“ What o’clock is it. Cams ? ” she began ; then a 
sudden consternation sobered her, and she cried, ‘‘ Oh, 
I forgot where we are! Mercy I To think that I should 
wake to find myself a runaway 1 Cams, Cams, what 
in the world is to become of me now? Where are we. 
Cams ? ” ' 

“ At the Blue Fox, near North Castle^” I said gaily. 
“ Why, Elsin — why, child, what on earth is the mat- 
ter?” — for the tears had rushed to her eyes, and her 
woful little face quivered. A single tear fell, then the 
wet lashes closed. 

“ O Cams I Cams 1 ” she said, “ what will become 
of me? You did it — you made me do it! I’ve run 
away with you — why did you make me do it? Oh, 
why, why ? ” 

Dumb, miserable, I could only look at her, finding 
no word of comfort — amazed, too, that the feverish 
spirit, the courage, the amazing energy of the night 
172 


THE BLUE FOX 


before had exhaled, distilling now in the tears which 
dazed me. 

“ I don’t know why I came here with you,” she 
whimpered, eyes closed on her wet cheeks — “ I must 
have been mad to do so. What will they say.^ — what 
w ill Rosamund say ? Why don’t you speak to me, 
Carus ? Why don’t you tell me what to do ? ” 

And this from that high-strung, nerveless maid who 
had matured to womanhood in the crisis of the night 
before — seizing command of a menacing situation 
through sheer effrontery and wit, compelling fate itself 
to swerve aside as she led our galloping horses through 
the slowly closing gates of peril. 

Her head drooped and lay on the edge of the bed 
pillowed by the flowered curtains; she rubbed the tears 
from her eyes with white Angers, drawing a deep, un- 
steady breath or two. 

I had found my voice at last, assuring her that all 
was well, that she should have a flag when she desired 
it, that here nobody knew who she was, and that when 
she was dressed I was ready to discuss the situation and 
do whatever was most advisable. 

“ If there’s a scandal,” she said dolefully, “ I sup- 
pose I must ask a flag at once.” 

“ That would be best,” I admitted. 

“ But there’s no scandal yet,” she protested. 

“ Not a breath! ” I cried cheerfully. “ You see, we 
have the situation in our own hands. Where is that wit, 
where is that gay courage you wore like magic armor 
through the real perils of yesterday ? ” 

“ Gone,” she said, looking up at me. “ I don’t 
13 173 


THE RECKONING 


know where it is — I — I was not myself yesterday. I 
was frightened — terror spurred me to things I never 
dreamed of when I thought of you hanging there on 
the Common ” 

“ You blessed child! ” I cried, dropping on one knee 
beside her. 

She laid her hand on my head, looking at me for 
a long while in silence. 

“ I can not help it,” she said. “ I really care noth- 
ing for what folk say. All this that we have done — and 
my indiscretion — nay, that we have run away and I am 
here with you — all this alarms me not at all. Indeed,” 
she added earnestly, “ I do truly find you so agreeable 
that I should have fretted had you gone away alone. 
Now I am honest with myself and you. Cams — this 
matter has sobered me into gravest reflection. I have 
the greatest curiosity concerning you — I had from the 
very first — spite of all that childish silliness we com- 
mitted. I don’t know what it is about you that I can 
not let you go until I learn more of you. Perhaps I 
shall — we have a week here before a flag goes north, 
have we not.^ ” she asked naively. 

“ The flag goes at your pleasure, Elsin.” 

“ Then it is my pleasure that we remain a while 
— and see — and see — ” she murmured, musing eyes fixed 
on the sunny window. “ I would we could fall in love. 
Cams ! ” 

“ We are pledged to try,” I said gaily. 

“ Aye, we must try. Lord-a-mercy on me, for my 
small head is filled with silliness, and my heart beats 
only for the vain pleasure of the moment. A hundred 
171 


THE BLUE FOX 


times since I have known you, Carus, I would have 
sworn I loved you — then something that you say or do 
repels me — or something, perhaps, of my own incon- 
stancy — and only that intense curiosity concerning you 
remains. That is not love, is it.^^ ” 

“ I think not.” 

“ Yet look how I set my teeth and drove blindly 
full Jtilt at Destiny when I thought you stood in peril ! 
Do women do such things for friendship’s sake.^ ” 

“ Men do — I don’t know. You are a faultless 
friend, at any rate. And on that friendship we must 
build.” 

‘‘ With your indifference and my vanity and in- 
constancy? God send it be no castle of cards, Carus! 
Tell me, have you, too, a stinging curiosity concerning 
me? Do you desire to fathom my shallow spirit, to 
learn what every passing smile might indicate, to un- 
derstand me when I am silent, to comprehend me when 
I converse with others? ” 

I — I have thought of these things, Elsin. Never 
having understood you — judging hastily, too — and 
being so intimately busy with the — the matters you 
know of — I never pursued my studies far — deeming 

you betrothed and — and ” 

“ A coquette ? ” 

“ A child, Elsin, heart-free and capricious, contra- 
dictory, imperious, and — and overyoung ” 

“ O Carus ! ” 

“ I meant no reproach,” I said hastily. “ A nec- 
tarine requires time, even though the sunlight paints 
it so prettily in all its unripe, flawless symmetry. And 
175 


THE RECKONING 


I have — I have lived all my life in sober company. IMy 
father was old, my mother placid and saddened by the 
loss of all her children save myself. I had few com- 
panions — none of my own age except when we went 
to Albany, where I learned to bear myself in company. 
At Johnson Hall, at Varick’s, at Butlersbury, I was but 
a shy lad, warned by my parents to formality, for they 
approved little of the gaiety that I would gladly have 
joined in. And so I know nothing of women — nor did 
I learn much in New York, where the surface of life is 
so prettily polished that it mirrors, as you say, only 
one’s own inquiring eyes.” 

I seated myself cross-legged on the floor, looking 
up at the sweet face on the bed’s edge framed by the 
chintz. 

“Did you never conceive an affection.?” she asked, 
watching me. 

“ Why, yes — for a day or two. I think women 
tire of me.” 

“ No, you tire of them.” 

“ Only when ” 

“ When what.? ” 

“ Nothing,” I said quietly. 

“ Do you mean when they fall in love with you.? ” 
she asked. 

“ They don’t. Some have plagued me to delight 
in my confusion.” 

“ Like Rosamund Barry.? ” 

I was silent. 

“ She,” observed Elsin musingly, “ was mad about 
you. No, you need not laugh or shrug impatiently:r-^ 
176 


THE BLUE FOX 


I know. Cams ; she was mad to have you love her ! Do 
you think I have neither eyes nor ears ? But you treated 
her no whit better than you treated me. That I am 
certain of — did you.f^ ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Did you.? ” 

“ Did I do what ? ” 

“ Treat Rosamund Barry kinder than you did me.? ” 
‘‘ In what way .? ” 

“ Did you kiss her.? ” 

“ Never ! ” 

“ Would you say ‘ Never! ’ if you had.? ” 

“No, I should say nothing.” 

“ I knew it ! ” she cried, laughing. “ I was certain 
of it. But, mercy on us, there were scores more women 
in New York — and I mean to ask you about each one, 
Cams, each separate one — some time — ^but, oh, I am so 
hungry now I ” 

I sprang to my feet, and walking into my chamber 
closed the door. 

“ Talk to me through the keyhole ! ” she called. 
“ I shall tie my hair in a club, and bathe me and clothe 
me very quickly. Are you there, Carus.? Do you hear 
what I say .? ” 

So I leaned against the door and chatted on about 
Colonel Hamilton, until I ventured to hint at some small 
word of praise 'for me from his Excellency. With that 
she was at the door, all eagerness : “ Oh, Carus ! I 
knew you were brave and true I Did his Excellency say 
so.? And well he might, too! — with you, a gentleman, 
facing the vilest of deaths there in New York, year after 
177 


THE RECKONING 


year. I am so glad, so proud of you, Carus, so happy ! 
What have they made you — a major-general?” 

“ Oh, not yet,” I said, laughing. 

“ And why not? ” she exclaimed hotly. 

“ Elsin, if you don’t dress quickly I’ll sit at break- 
fast without you ! ” I warned her. 

“ Oh, I will, I will ; I’m lacing — something — this 
very instant ! Carus, when I bid you, you may come 
in and tie my shoulder-points. Wait a moment, silly ! 
Just one more second. Now ! ” 

As I entered she came up to me, turning her shoul- 
der, and I threaded the points clumsily enough, I sup- 
pose, but she thanked me very sweetly, turned to the 
mirror, patted the queue-ribbon to a flamboyant allure, 
and, catching my hand in hers, pointed at the glass 
which reflected us both. 

“ Look at us ! ” she exclaimed, “ look at the two 
runaways! Goodness, I should never have believed it, 
Carus 1 ” ' 

We stood a moment, hand clasping hand, curiously 
regarding the mirrored faces that smiled back so 
strangely at us. Then, somewhat subdued and thought- 
ful, we walked out through my chamber into a sunny 
little breakfast-room where landlord and servant re- 
ceived us a trifle too solemnly, and placed us at the cloth. 

“ Their owlish eyes mean Gretna Green,” whispered 
Elsin, leaning close to me ; “ but what do we care, Carus ? 
And they think us married in New York. Now, sir, 
if you ever wished to see how a hungry maid can eat 
Tapaan soupaan, you shall see now I ” 

The Tapaan hasty -pudding was set before us, and 

178 


THE BLUE FOX 


in a twinkling we w^ere busy as bees in clover. Pompions 
and clingstone peaches went the way of the soupaan; 
a dish of troutlings followed, and out of the corner 
of my eye I saw other dainties coming and rejoiced. 
Lord, what a pair of appetites were there! I think 
the Blue Fox must have licked his painted chops on 
the swinging sign under the window to see how we did 
full justice to the fare, slighting nothing set before 
us. And while the servants were running hither and 
thither with dishes and glasses I questioned the land- 
lord, who was evidently prodigiously impressed with 
Colonel Hamilton’s visit; and I gathered from mine 
host that, excepting for ourselves, all the other guests 
were officers of various degrees, and that, thanks to 
the nearness of the army and the consequent scarcity 
of skinners, business was brisk and profitable, for which 
he thanked God and his Excellency. 

Elsin, resting one elbow on the table, listened and 
looked out into the village street where farmers and sol- 
diers were passing, some arm in arm, gravely smoking 
their clay pipes and discussing matters in the sunshine, 
others entering or leaving the few shops where every 
sort of ware was exposed for sale, still others gathered 
on the bridge, some fishing in the Bronx, some looking 
on or reading fresh newspapers from New England or 
Philadelphia, or a stale and tattered Gazette which had 
found its way out of New York. 

At a nod from me the landlord signaled the serv- 
ants and withdrew, leaving us there alone together with 
a bottle of claret on the table and a dish of cakes and 
raisins. 


179 


THE RECKONING 


“ So these good folk are rebels,” mused Elsin, gazing 
at the people in the street below. “ They seem much 
like other people, Carus.” 

“ They are,” I said, laughing. 

“ Well,” she said, “ they told me otherwise in New 
York. But I can see no very great ferocity in your 
soldiers’ countenances. Nor do they dress in rags. 
Mr. De Lancey told me that the Continentals scarce 
mustered a pair of breeches to a brigade.” 

“ It has been almost as bad as that,” I said gravely. 
“ These troops are no doubt clothed in uniforms sent 
from France, but I fear there are rags and to spare 
in the south, where Greene and Lafayette are harrying 
Cornwallis — God help them ! ” 

“ Amen,” she said softly, looking at me. 

Touched as I had never been by her, I held out my 
hand; she laid hers in mine gravely. 

“ So that they keep clear of Canada, I say God 
speed men who stand for their own homes, Carus ! But,” 
she added innocently, “ I could not be indifferent to a 
cause which you serve. Come over here to the window 
— draw your chair where you can see. Look at that 
officer, hoAv gallant he is in his white uniform faced 
with green ! ” 

“ That is a French officer,” I said. “ Those three 
soldiers passing yonder who wear white facing on their 
blue coats, and black spatterdashes from ankle to thigh, 
are infantry of the New England line. The soldiers 
smoking under the tree are New York and New Jersey 
men; they wear buff copper-clouts, and their uniform is 
buff and blue. Maryland troops wear red facings ; the 
180 


THE BLUE FOX 


Georgia line are faced with blue, edged around by white. 
There goes an artilleryman; he’s all blue and scarlet, 
with yellow on his hat ; and here stroll a dozen dragoons 
in helmet and jack-boots and blue jackets laced, lined, 
and faced with white. Ah, Elsin, these same men have 
limped barefoot, half-naked, through snow and sun 
because his Excellency led them.” 

“ It is strange,” she said, “ how you turn grave and 
how a hush comes, a little pause of reverence, whenever 
you name — his Excellency. Do all so stand in awe of 
him.? ” 

“ None names him lightly, Elsin.” 

“ Have you ever seen him .? ” 

“ Never, child.” 

“ And yet you approach even his name in hushed 
respect.” 

“ Yes, even his name. I should like to see him,” 
I continued wistfully, “ to hear him speak once, to 
meet his calm eye. But I never shall. My service is of 
such a nature that it is inexpedient for him to receive 
me openly. So I never shall see him — save, perhaps, 
when the long war ends — God knows ” 

She dropped her hand on mine and leaned lightly 
back against my shoulder. 

“ You must not fret,” she murmured. “ Remember 
that staff-officer said he praised you.” 

“ I do, I do remember! ” I repeated gratefully. “ It 
was a reward I never dared expect — never dreamed of. 
His Excellency has been kind to me, indeed.” 

It was now past four o’clock in the afternoon, and 
Elsin, who had noted the wares in the shop-windows, 
181 


THE RECKONING 


desired to price the few simple goods offered for sale; 
so we went out into the dusty village street to see what 
was to be seen, but the few shops we entered were full 
of soldiers and not overclean, and the wares offered for 
sale were not attractive. I remember she bought points 
and some stuff for stocks, and needles and a reel of 
thread, and when she offered a gold piece everybody 
looked at us, and the shopkeeper called her “ My lady ” 
and me “ My lord,” and gave us in change for the gold 
piece a great handful of paper money. 

We emerged from the shop amazed, and doubtful 
of the paper stuff, and walked up the street and out 
into the country, pausing under a great maple-tree to 
sort this new Continental currency, of which we had 
enough to stuff a pillow. 

Scrip by scrip I examined the legal tender of my 
country, Elsin, her chin on my shoulder, scrutinizing 
the printed slips of yellow, brown, and red in growing 
wonder. One slip bore three arrows on it, under which 
was printed : 

Fifty Dollars. 

Printed by H. A. L. L. and S. E. L. 

1778. 

Upon the other side was a pyramid in a double circle, 
surmounted by the legend: 

Perennis. 

» 

And it was further decorated with the following: 

“ No. 1678Q Fifty Dollars. This Bill entitles the 
Bearer to receive Fifty Spanish milled dollars or the 
18 ^ 


THE BLUE FOX 


value thereof in Gold or Silver, according to the Reso- 
lution passed by Congress at Philadelphia, September 
g6th, 1788. 

“ J. Watkins ; I. K.” 

And we had several dozen of these of equal or less 
denomination. 

“ Goodness,” exclaimed Elsin, “ was my guinea 
worth all these dollars? And do you suppose that we 
could buy anything with these paper bills ? ” 

‘‘ Certainly,” I said, loyal to my country’s currency ; 
“ they’re just as good as silver shillings — if you only 
have enough of them.” 

“ But what use will they be to me in Canada ? ” 

That was true enough. I immediately pocketed the 
mass of paper and tendered her a guinea in exchange, 
but she refused it, and we had a pretty quarrel there 
under the maple-tree. 

“ Cams,” she said at last, “ let us keep them, any- 
how, and never, never spend them. Some day we may 
care to remember this July afternoon, and how you 
and I went a-shopping as sober as a wedded pair in 
Hanover Square.” 

There was a certain note of seriousness in her voice 
that sobered me, too. I drew her arm through mine, 
and we strolled out into the sunshine and northward 
along the little river, where in shallow brown pools scores 
of minnows stemmed the current, and we saw the slim 
trout lying in schools under the bush’s shadows, and 
the great silver and blue kingfishers winging up and 
down like flashes of azure fire. 

185 


THE RECKONING 


A mile out a sentinel stopped us, inquiring our busi- 
ness, and as we had none we turned back, for it mat- 
tered little to us where we sauntered. Farmers were 
cutting hay in the river-meadows, under the direction 
of a mounted sergeant of dragoons; herds of cattle and 
sheep grazed among the hills, shepherded by soldiers. 
Every now and again dragoons rode past us, convoying 
endless lines of wagons piled up with barrels, crates, 
sacks of meal, and sometimes with bolts of coarse 
cloth. 

To escape the dust raised by so many hoofs and 
wheels^ we took to the fields and found a shady place 
on a hill which overlooked the country. Then for the 
first time I realized the nearness of the army, for every- 
where in the distance white tents gleamed against the 
green, and bright flags were flying from hillocks, and 
on a level plain that stretched away toward the Hudson 
I saw long dark lines moving, or halted motionless, with 
the glimmer of steel playing through the sunshine ; and 
I, for the first time, beheld a brigade of our army at 
exercise. 

We were too far away to see, yet it was a sight 
to stir one who had endured that prison city so long, 
never seeing a Continental soldier except as a prisoner 
marched through the streets to the jails or the hulks 
in the river. But there they were — those men of White 
Plains, of Princeton, of Camden, and of the Wilderness 
— the men of Long Island, and Germantown, and Stony 
Point! — there they were, wheehng by the right flank, 
wbeehng by the left, marching and countermarching, 
drilling away, busy as bees in the July sun. 

184 


THE BLUE FOX 


“ Ah, Elsin,” I said, when they storm New York 
the man who misses that splendid climax will miss the 
best of his life — and never forget that he has missed it 
as long as he lives to mask his vain regret ! ” 

“Why is it that you are not content?” she asked. 
“ For four years you have moved in the shadow of 
destruction.” 

“ But I have never fought in battle,” I said ; “ never 
fired a single shot in earnest, never heard the field-horn of 
the light infantry nor the cavalry-trumpet above the fu- 
sillade, never heard the officers shouting, the mad gallop 
of artillery, the yelling onset — why, I know nothing of 
the pleasures of strife, only the smooth deceit and bland 
hypocrisy, only the eavesdropping and the ignoble pre- 
tense ! At times I can scarcely breathe in my de- 
sire to wash my honor in the rifle flames — to be hurled 
pell-mell among the heaving, straining melee, thrusting, 
stabbing, cutting my fill, till I can no longer hear or 
see. Four years, Elsin! think of it — think of being 
chained in the midst of this magnificent activity for 
four years! And now, when I beg a billet among the 
dragoons, they tell me I am fashioned for diplomacy, 
not for war, and hint of my usefulness on the frontier! ” 

“ What frontier? ” she asked quickly. 

“ Tryon County, I suppose.” 

“Where that dreadful work never ceases?” 

“ Hatchet and scalping-knife are ever busy there,” 
I said grimly. “ Who knows? I may yet have my fill 
and to spare ! ” 

She sat silent for so long that I presently turned 
from the distant martial spectacle to look at her in- 
185 


THE BECKONING 


quiringly. She smiled, drawing a long breath, and 
shaking her head. 

“ I never seem to understand you, Carus,” she said. 
“ You have done your part, yet it appears already you 
are planning to go hunting about for some obliging 
savage to knock you in the head with a death-maul.” 

“ But the war is not ended, Elsin.” 

‘‘No, nor like to be until it compasses your death. 
Then, indeed, will it be ended for me, and the world 
with it ! ” 

“ Why, Elsin ! ” I laughed, “ this is a new note in 
your yoice.” 

“ Is it.^ Perhaps it is. I told you, Carus, that 
there is no happiness in love. And, just now, I love 
you. It is strange, is it not.? — ^when aught threatens 
you, straightway I begin to sadden and presently fall 
in love with you; but when there’s no danger anywhere, 
and I have nothing to sadden me, why, I’m not at all 
sure that I love you enough to pass the balance of the 
day in your companionship — only that when you are 
away I desire to know where you are and what you do, 
and with whom you walk and talk and laugh. Deary 
me! deary me! I know not what I want, Carus. Let 
us go to the Blue Fox and drink a dish of tea.” 

We walked back to the inn through the sweetest 
evening air that I had bi'eathed in many a day, Elsin 
stopping now and then to add a blossom to the great 
armful of wild flowers that she had gathered, I linger- 
ing, happy in my freedom as a lad loosed from school, 
now pausing to skip flat stones across the Bronx, now 
creeping up to the bank to surprise the trout and see 
186 


THE BLUE FOX 


them scatter like winged shadows over the golden gravel, 
now whistling to imitate that rosy-throated bird who 
sits so high in his black-and-white livery and sings into 
happiness all who hear him. 

The sun was low over the Jersey highlands ; swarms 
of swallows rose, soared, darted, and dipped in the eve- 
ning sky. I heard the far camp-bugles playing softly, 
the dulled roll of drums among the eastern hills; then, 
as the red sun went out behind the wooded heights^ 
bang! the evening gun’s soft thunder shook the silence. 
And our day was ended. 


187 


CHAPTER VIII 


DESTINY 

On Sunday, having risen early — though not so 
early as the post relief, whose day begins as soon as 
a sentry can see clearly for a thousand yards — I dressed 
me by the rosy light of the rising sun, and, before I 
breakfasted, wrote a long letter to my parents, who, 
as I have said, were now residing near Paris, where my 
great-grandfather’s estate lay. 

When I had finished my letter, sanded and sealed it, 
I went out to leave it with the packages of post matter 
collected from the French regiments across the Hudson, 
and destined for France by an early packet, which was 
to sail as soon as the long-expected French fleet arrived 
from the West Indies. 

I delivered my letter to the staff-officer detailed for 
That duty, and then, hearing military music, w^ent back 
to the Blue Fox in time to see a funeral of an officer 
slowly passing eastward, gun-carriage, horses, men, in 
strange silhouette against the level and dazzling white 
disk of the rising sun. Truly, the slow cortege seemed 
moving straight into the flaming gates of heaven, the 
while their solemn music throbbed and throbbed with the 
double drum-beat at the finish of each line. The tune 
was called “ Funeral Thoughts.” They changed to 
“ Roslyn Castle ” as they crossed the bridge ; yet an hour 
188 


DESTINY 


had scarce passed when I heard their volley-firing not 
very far away, and back they came, the Fife-Major 
leading, drums, fifes, and light-infantry horns gaily 
sounding “ The Pioneer,” and the men swinging back 
briskly to fall in with the Church details, now marching 
in from every direction to the admonitory timing of a 
single drum-beat. 

The music had awakened Elsin, and presently she 
came a-tapping at my door, barefoot, her cardinal 
tightly wrapped around her, hair tumbled, drowsily 
rubbing her heavy lids. 

“ Good morning. Cams,” she said sleepily. “ I 
should dearly like to hear a good, strong sermon on 
damnation to-day — being sensible of my present state 
of sin, and of yours. Do they preach hell-fire in Rebel- 
dom ? ” 

“ The landlord says that Hazen’s mixed brigade 
and other troops go to service in the hay-field above 
the bridge,” I answered, laughing. “ Shall we ride 
thither.? ” 

She nodded, yawning, then pulling her foot-mantle 
closer about her shoulders, pattered back into her cham- 
ber, and I went below and ordered our horses saddled, 
and breakfast to be served us as soon as might be. 

And so it happened that, ere the robins had done 
caroling their morning songs, and the far, sweet an- 
thems of the hermit-birds still rang in dewy woodlands, 
Elsin and I dismounted in Granger’s hay-field just as 
the troops marched up in a long, dense column, the 
massed music of many regiments ahead, but only a single 
drum timing the steady tread. 

14 189 


THE RECKONING 


All was done in perfect decorum and order. A hay- 
wagon was the pulpit; around it the drummers piled 
their drums, tier rising on tier; the ensigns draped the 
national colors over the humble platform, setting regi- 
mental and state standards at the corners ; and I 
noted there some curious flags, one borne by a Massa- 
chusetts battalion, white, with a green tree on it; an- 
other, a yellow naval flag with a coiled rattlesnake; 
another, carried by a company of riflemen, on which 
was this design: 

1776. 

XI Virginia Reg’t, 

and I knew that I was looking upon the famous regi- 
mental standard of Morgan’s Rifles. 

Without confusion, with only a low-spoken com- 
mand here and there, battalion after battalion marched 
up, stacked arms, forming three sides of a hollow square, 
the pulpit, with its flags and tiers of drums, making the 
fourth side. The men stood at ease, hands loosely 
clasped and hanging in front of them. The brigade 
chaplain quietly crossed the square to his rude pulpit, 
mounted it, and, as he bowed his head in prayer, every 
cocked hat came oflP, every head was lowered. 

Country-folk, yokels, farmers, had gathered from all 
directions ; invalids from the camp hospitals were there, 
too, faces clay-color, heads and limbs heavily bandaged. 
One of these, a sergeant of the New York line, who wore 
a crimson heart sewed on his breast, was led to his place 
between two comrades, he having both eyes shot out ; and 
190 


DESTINY 


the chaplain looked at him hard for a moment, then gave 
out the hymn, leading the singing in a deep, full voice : 

“ Through darkest night 
I know that Thou canst see. 

Night blinds my sight, 

Yet my small voice shall praise Tliee constantly. 

Under Thy wing, 

Whose shadow blinds mine eyes, 

Fearless I sing 

Thy sweetness and Thy mercy to the skies ! ” 

The swelling voices of the soldiers died away. 
Standing there between our horses, Elsin’s young 
voice still echoing in my ears, I looked up at the placid 
face of the preacher, saw his quiet glance sweep the 
congregation, saw something glimmer in his eyes, and 
his lips tighten as he laid open his Bible, and, extending 
his right arm, turn to the south, menacing the distant 
city with his awful text: 

“ The horseman lifteth up the bright sword and the 
glittering spear! 

“Woe to the bloody city I The chariots shall rage 
in the streets, they shall jostle one against another in 
the broad ways! They shall seem like torches, they shall 
run like the lightnings. They shall make haste to the 
wall ; the defense shall be prepared. 

“ For that day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble 
and distress, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of 
clouds and thick darkness. 

“ A day of the trumpet and alarm against fenced 
citieSy and against high towers. 

191 


THE BECKONING 


“ For the horseman lifteth up the bright sword. 
. . . Woe to the bloody city ! ” 

Out over the sunlit fields rang the words of Zepha- 
niah and of Nahum. I saw the motionless ranks sud- 
denly straighten; a thousand sunburned faces were up- 
turned, a thousand pairs of eyes fastened themselves 
upon the steady eyes of the preacher. 

For an hour he spoke to them, beginning with his 
Excellency’s ever-to-be-remembered admonition : ‘‘To 
the character of a patriot it should be our highest glory 
to add the more distinguished character of a Chris- 
tian ” ; then continued upon that theme nearest the 
hearts of all, the assault upon New York, which every- 
body now deemed irmninent, thrilling the congregation 
with hope, inspiring them with high endeavor. I re- 
member that he deprecated revenge, although the score 
was heavy enough! I remember he preached dignity 
and composure in adversity, mercy in victory, and at 
the word his voice rang with prophecy, and the long 
ranks stirred as dry leaves stir in a sudden wind. 

When at last he asked the blessing, and the ranks 
had knelt in the stubble, Elsin^and I on our knees 
breathed the Amen, lifted our sun-dazzled eyes, and 
rose together to mount and ride back through the dust 
to the Blue Fox, where we were to confer concerning 
the long-delayed letter which decency required us to 
write to Sir Peter and Lady Coleville, and also take 
counsel in other matters touching the future, which 
seemed as obscure as ever. 

Since that first visit from Colonel Hamilton I had 
received orders from headquarters to be ready to leave 
192 


DESTINY 


for the north at an hour’s notice, and that suitable 
quarters would be ready at West Point for my wife. 

There were a dozen officers lodged at the tavern, 
but my acquaintance with them advanced nothing be- 
yond a civil greeting, for I cared not to join them in 
the coffee-room, where sooner or later some question con- 
cerning Elsin must annoy me. It was sufficient that 
they knew my name and nothing more either of my 
business or myself or Elsin. No doubt some quiet in- 
timation from headquarters had spared us visits from 
quartermasters and provost marshals, for nobody inter- 
fered with us, and, when at the week’s end I called for 
our reckoning — my habits of method ever uppermost in 
my mind — the landlord refused to listen, saying that 
our expenses were paid as long as we remained at the 
Blue Fox, and that if we lacked for anything I was to 
write to Colonel Hamilton. 

This I had done, being sadly in need of fresh linen, 
and none to be had in the shops opposite. Also I en- 
closed a list of apparel urgently desired by Elsin, she 
having writ the copy, which was as long as I am tall; 
but I sent it, nevertheless, and we expected to hear from 
Colonel Hamilton before evening. For all we had was 
the clothing we wore on our backs, and though for 
myself I asked nothing but linen, I should have been 
glad of a change of outer garments, too. 

We dined together at our little table by the window, 
decorously discussing damnation, predestination, and 
other matters fitting that sunny Sabbath noontide. 
And at moments, very, very far away, I heard the faint 
sound of church-bells, perhaps near North Castle, per- 
193 


THE RECKONING 


haps at Dobbs Ferry, so sweet, so peaceful, that it was 
hard to believe in eternal punishment and in a God of 
wrath; hard, too, to realize that war ruled half a con- 
tinent, and that the very dogs of war, unchained, 
prowled all* around us, fangs bared, watching the sad 
city at the river’s ends. 

When the servants had removed the cloth, and had 
fetched the materials for writing which I had ordered, 
we drew our chairs up side by side, and leaned upon 
the table to confer in regard to a situation which could 
not, of course, continue much longer. 

The first thing to consider,” said I, “ is the flag 
to take you north.” And I looked curiously at Elsin. 

How can we decide that yet ? ” she asked, ag- 
grieved. “ I shall not require a flag if we — fall in 
love.” 

« We’ve had a week to try,” I argued, smiling. 

Yes, but we have not tried ; we have been too 
happy to try. Still, Cams, we promised one another 
to attempt it.” 

“ Well, shall we attempt it at once? ” 

“ Goodness, I’m too lazy, too contented, too happy, 
to worry over such sad matters as love ! ” 

“ Well, then, I had better write to Hamilton asking 
a flag ” 

“ I tell you not to hasten ! ” she retorted pettishly. 
“ Moonlight changes one’s ideas. My noonday senti- 
ments never correspond to my evening state of mind.” 

“ But,” I persisted, “ if we only cherish certain 
sentiments when the moon shines ” 

“ Starlight, too, silly ! Besides, whenever I take 

194 


DESTINY 


time to think of your late peril, I straightway experi- 
ence a tender sentiment for you. I tell you be not too 
hasty to ask a flag for me. Come, let us now consider 
and be wise. Once in Canada all is ended, for Sir 
Frederick Haldimand would sooner see me fall from 
Cape Eternity to the Saguenay than hear of me in love 
with you. Therefore I say, let us remember, consider, 
and await wisdom.” 

“ But,” I argued, “ something must be settled before 
fresh orders from headquarters send me north and you 
to West Point.” 

“ Oh, I shall go north, too,” she observed calmly. 

‘‘ Into battle, for example ” I asked, amused. 

“ I shall certainly not let you go into battle all 
alone! You are a mere child when it comes to taking 
precaution in danger.” 

“ You mean you would actually gallop into battle 
to see I came to no mischief.? ” I demanded, laughing. 

“ Aye, clip my hair and dress the trooper, jack- 
boots and all, if you drive me to it I ” she exclaimed, 
irritated. “ You may as well know it. Cams ; you shall 
not go floundering about alone, and that’s flat 1 See 
what a mess of it you were like to make in New York! ” 
Then,” said I, still laughing, yet touched to the 
heart, “ I shall instruct you in the duties and amenities 
of wedded life, and we may as well marry and be done 
with it. Once married, I, of course, shall do as I please 
in the matter of battles ” 

“ No, you shall not ! You shall consider me ! Do 
you think to go roaming about, nose in the air, and 
leaving me to sit quaking at home, crying my eyes out 
195 


THE RECKONING 


over your foolishness? Do I not already know the ter- 
ror of it with you in New York there, and only ten 
minutes to save your, neck from Cunningham? Thank 
you, I am already instructed in the amenities of wedded 
life — if they be like the pleasures of betrothal — though 
I cared not a whit what happened to Walter Butler, it 
is true, yet fell sick o’ worry when you and Rosamund 
Barry went a-sailing — not that I feared you’d drown, 
either. O Cams, Cards, you distract me, you worry 
me; you tell me nothing, nothing, and I never knew 
what you were about there in New York when you were 
not with me! — doubtless a-courting every petticoat on 
Hanover Square, for all I know I ” 

“ Well,” said I, amazed and perplexed, “ if you 
think, under the circumstances, there is any prospect of 
our falling in love after marriage, and so continuing, 

I will wed you — now ” 

“ No! ” she interrupted angrily; “ I shall not marry 
you, nor even betroth myself. It may be that I can 
see you leave me and bid you a fair journey, unmoved. 
I would to God I could ! I feel that way now, and may 
continue, if I do not fall a-pondering, and live over 
certain hours with you that plague me at times into a 
very passion. But at moments like this I weary of you, 
so that all you say and do displeases, and I’m sick of the 
world and I know not what! O Cams, I am sick of 
life — and I dare not tell you why ! ” 

She rested her head on her hands, staring down at 
her blurred image, reflected in the polished table-top. 

‘‘ I have sometimes thought,” she mused, “ that the 
fault lay with you — somewhat.” 

196 


DESTINY 


“ With me ! ” 

“ That you could force me to love you, if you 
dared. The rest would not matter, then. Misery me} 
I wish that we had never met ! And yet I can not let 
you go, because you do not know how to care for your- 
self. If you will sail to France on the next packet, and 
remain with your mother. I’ll say nothing. I’ll go with 
a flag I care not where — only to know you are safe. 
Will you.? O Carus, I would my life were done and 
all ended!” 

She was silent for a while, leaning on the table, 
tracing with her finger the outline of her dull reflection 
in the shining surface. Presently she looked up gaily, 
a smile breaking in her eyes. 

“ All that I said is false. I desire to live, Carus. 
I am not unhappy. Pray you, begin your writing ! ” 

I drew the paper to me, dipped a quill full of ink 
from the musty horn, rested my elbow, pen lifted, and 
began, dating the letter from the Blue Fox, and ad- 
dressing it most respectfully to Sir Peter and Lady 
Coleville. 

First I spoke of the horses we had taken, and would 
have promised payment by draft enclosed, but that 
Elsin, looking over my shoulder, stayed my pen. 

“ Did you not see me leave a pile of guineas ? ” she 
demanded. “ That was to pay for our stable theft ! ” 

“ But not for the horse I took.? ” 

“ Certainly, for your horse, too.” 

“ But you could not know that I was to ride saddle 
to the Coq d’Or ! ” I insisted. 

“ No, but I saddled two horses,” she replied, de- 

197 


THE RECKONING 


lighted at my wonder, “ two horses, monsieur, one of 
which stood ready in the stalls of the Coq d’Or! So 
when you came a-horseback, it was not necessary to use 
the spare mount I had led there at a gallop. Now do 
you see, Mr. Renault All this I did for you, inspired 
by — foresight, which you lack! ” 

“ I see that you are as wise and witty as you are 
beautiful I ” I exclaimed warmly, and caught her fingers 
to kiss them, but she would have none of my caress, 
urging me to write further, and make suitable excuse 
for what had happened. 

“ It is not best to confess that we are still un- 
wedded,” I said, perplexed. 

“ No. They suppose we are ; let be as it is,” she 
answered. “ And you shall not say that you were a 
spy, either, for that must only pain Sir Peter and his 
lady. They will never believe Walter Butler, for they 
think I fled with you because I could not endure him. 
And — perhaps I did,” she added ; and that strange smile 
colored her eyes to deepest azure. 

“Then what remains to say.^^” I asked, regarding 
her thoughtfully. 

“ Say we are happy. Cams.” 

“ Are you?” 

“ Truly I am, spite of all I complain of. Write it I ” 

I wrote that we were happy ; and, as I traced the 
words, a curious thrill set my pen shaking. 

“ And that we love — them.” 

I wrote it slowly, half-minded to write “ one an- 
other ” instead of “ them.” Never had I been so near 
to love. 

|198 


DESTINY 


“ And — and — let me see,” she mused, finger on lip 
• — “ I think it not too impudent to ask their blessing. 
It may happen, you know, though Destiny fight against 
it; and if it does, why there we have their blessing all 
ready ! ” 

I thought for a long while, then wrote, asking their 
blessing upon our wedded union. 

“ That word ‘ wedded,’ ” observed Elsin, “ commits 
us. Scratch it out. I have changed my mind. Des- 
tiny may accept the challenge, and smite me where I 
sit.” 

“What do you mean.?^” I asked. 

“ I mean — nothing. Yet that word ‘ wedded ’ must 
not stand. It is an affront to — to Destiny ! ” 

“ I fear nothing from Destiny — with you, Elsin.” 

“ If you write that word, then, I tell you we must 
betroth ourselves this instant ! — and fight Fate to its 
knees. Dare you.? ” 

“ I am ready,” said I coolly. 

She looked at me sidewise in quick surprise, chin 
resting in her clasped hands. Then she turned, facing 
me, dropping her elbows on the polished table. 

“You would wed me, Carus.? ” she said slowly. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Because — because — you — love me.? ” 

“ Yes.” 

A curious tremor possessed my body; it was not as 
though I spoke; something within me had stirred and 
awakened and was twitching at my lips. I stared at 
her through eyes not my own — eyes that seemed to open 
on her for the first/ time. And, as I stared, her face 
199 


THE RECKONING 


whitened, her eyes closed, and she bowed her head to 
her hands. 

“Keep pity for others,” she said wearily; “keep 
your charity for some happier maid who may accept 
it. Cams. I would if I dared. I have no pride left. 
But I dare not. This is the end of all, I think. I shall 
never ask alms of Love again.” 

Then a strange thing happened, quick as a thrust; 
and my very soul leaped, quivering, smitten through 
and through with love of her. In the overwhelming 
shock I stretched out my hand like a man dazed, touch- 
ing her fingers, and the thrill of it seemed to stun me. 

Clever, never could I endure to have her look at 
another as she looked at me when our hands touched, 
but I could not utter a word ; and I saw her lip quiver, 
and the hopeless look deaden her eyes again. 

I rose blindly to my feet, speechless, heart ham- 
mering at my throat, and made to speak, but could 
not. 

She, too, had risen, gazing steadily at me; and still 
I could not utter a word, the blood surging through me 
and my senses swimming. Love ! It blinded me with 
its clamor; it frightened me with its rushing tide; it 
dinned in my ears, it ran riot, sweeping every vein, 
choking speech, while it surged on, wave on wave 
mounting in flame. 

She stood there, pallidly uncertain, looking on the 
conflagration love had wrought. Then something of 
its purport seemed to frighten her, and she shrank away 
step by step, passing the portal of her chamber, re- 
treating, yet facing me still, fascinated eyes on mine. 

200 


DESTINY 


I heard a voice unlike my own, saying : “ I love you, 
Elsin. Why do you repulse me? ” 

And as she answered nothing, I went to her and 
took her hand. But the dismayed eyes only widened, 
the color faded from her parted lips. 

“ Can you not see,” I whispered, “ can you not 
see I love you ? ” 

“ You — love — me ! ” 

I caught her in my arms. A bright blush staine^ 
neck and face, and she threw back her head, avoiding 
my lips. 

“ Elsin, I beg you — I beg you to love me ! Can 
you not see what you have done to me.? — ^how I am 
awakened? ” 

“ Wait,” she pleaded, resisting me, “ wait. Cams. 
I — I am afraid ” 

“ Of love, sweetheart? ” 

“ Wait,” she panted — “ give me time — till morning 
— then if I change not — if my heart stirs again so 
loudly when you hold me — thus — and — and crush me so 
close to you — so close — and promise to love me ” 

“ Elsin, Elsin, I love you ! ” 

“ Wait — wait. Cams ! — my darling. Oh, you must 
not — kiss me — until you know — what I am ” 

Her face burned against mine; her eyes closed. 
Through the throbbing silence her head drooped, lower, 
lower, yielding her mouth to mine ; then, with a cry she 
turned in my arms, twisting to her knees, and dropped 
her head forward on the bed. And, as I bent beside 
her, she gasped : “ No — no — wait. Cams ! I know my- 
self! I know myself! Take your lips from my hands 
201 


THE RECKONING 


— do not touch me! My brain has gone blind, I tell 
you ! Leave me to think — if I can 

“ I will not leave you here in tears. Elsin, Elsin, 
look at me I ” 

‘‘ The tears help me — help us both,” she sobbed. 
“ I know what I know. Leave me — lest the very sky 
fall to crush us in our madness ” 

I bent beside her, a new, fierce tenderness choking 
me ; and at my touch she straightened up, tear-stained 
face lifted, and flung both arms around my neck. 

“ I love you, Carus ! I love you I ” she stammered. 
“ I care for that, only- — only for that I If it be for a 
week, if it be for a day, an hour, an instant, it is what 
I was made for, it is what I was fashioned for — to love 
you, Carus I There is nothing else — nothing else in all 
the world! Love me, take me, do with me what you 
will! I yield all you ask, all you beg, all you desire 
— all save wedlock ! ” 

She swayed in my arms. A deadly pallor whitened 
her; then her knees trembled and she gave way, sinking 
to the floor, her head buried in the flowering curtains of 
the bed; and I to drop on my knees beside her, seeking 
to lift her face while the sobs shook her slender body, and 
she wept convulsively, head prostrate in her arms. 

“ I — I am wicked ! ” she wailed. “ Oh, I have done 
that which has damned me forever, Carus ! — forever and 
ever. I can not wed you — I love you so ! — ^yet I can not 
wed you! What wild folly drove me to go with you.? 
What devil has dragged me here to tempt you — 
whom I love so truly.? Oh, God pity us both — God 
pity us ! ” 


202 





She threw back her head, avoiding my lips. 



DESTINY 


“ Elsin,” I said hoarsely, “ you are mad to say it ! 
Is there anything on earth to bar us from wedlock? ” 
Yes, Carus, yes ! ” she cried. “ It is — it is too 
late!” 

‘‘ Too late ! ” I repeated, stunned. 

“Aye — for I am a wedded wife! Now you know! 
Oh, this is the end of all ! ” 

A while she lay there sobbing her heart out, I up- 
right on my knees beside her, staring at blank space, 
which reeled and reeled, so that the room swam all awry, 
and I strove to steady it with fixed gaze, lest the whole 
world come crashing upon us. 

At last she spoke, lifting her tear-marred face from 
the floor to the bed, forehead resting heavily in her 
hands : 

“ I ask your pardon — for the sin I have committed. 
Hear me out — that is my penance; spurn me — that is 
my punishment ! ” 

She pressed her wet eyes, shuddering. “ Are you 
listening, Carus? The night before I sailed from 
Canada — he sought me ” 

“Who?” My lips found the question, but no 
sound came. 

“ Walter Butler ! O God ! that I have done this 
thing ! ” 

In the dreadful silence I heard her choking back the 
cry that strangled her. And after a while she found 
her voice again : “ I was a child — a vain, silly thing of 
moods and romance, ignorant of men, innocent of the 
world, flattered by the mystery with which he cloaked 
his passion, awed, fascinated by this first melancholy 
20S 


THE RECKONING 


lover who had wrung from me through pity, through 
vanity, through a vague fear of him, perhaps, a promise 
of secret betrothal.” 

She lifted her head and set her chin on one clinched 
hand, yet never looked at me : 

“ Sir Frederick was abed ; I all alone in the great 
arms-gallery, nose to the diamond window-panes, and 
looking out at the moon — and waiting for him. Sud- 
denly I saw him there below. . . . Heaven is witness 

I meant no harm nor dreamed of any. He was not alone. 
My heart and my affections were stirred to warmth — I 
sailing from Canada and friends next day at dawn — 
and I went down to the terrace and out among the trees 
where he stood, his companion moving off among the 
trees. I had come only to bid him the farewell I had 
promised. Cams — I never dreamed of what he meant 
to do.” 

She cleared her hair from her brow. 

“ I — I swear to you, Carus, that never has Walter 
Butler so much as laid the weight of his little finger on 
my person ! Yet he swayed me there — using that spell 
of melancholy, clothed in romance — and — I know not 
how it was — or how I listened, or how consented — it is 
scarce more than a dreadful dream — the trees in the 
moonlight, his voice so gentle, so pitiful, trembling, 
beseeching — and he had brought a clergyman ” — again 
her hands covered her eyes — “ and, ere I was aware of 
it, frightened, stunned in the storm of his passion, he 
had his way with me. The clergyman stood between us, 
saying words that bound me. I heard them, I was mute, 
I shrank from the ring, yet suffered it — for even as he 
204 


DESTINY 


ringed me he touched me not with his hand. Oh, if he 
had, I think the spell had broken ! ” 

Again her tears welled up, falling silently; and 
presently the strength returned to her voice, and she 
went on : 

“ From the first moment that I saw you, Carus, I 
understood what love might be. From the very first I 
closed my ears to the quick cry of caution. I saw you 
meet coquetry unmoved, I knew the poison of my first 
passion was in me, stealing through every vein; and 
every moment with you was the more hopeless for me. 
I played a hundred roles — you smiled indifference on all. 
A mad desire to please you grew with your amused im- 
patience of me. Curiosity turned to jealousy. I longed 
for your affection as I never longed for anything on 
earth — or heaven. I had never had a lover to love be- 
fore. O Carus, I had never loved, and love crazed 
me ! Day after day I wondered if I had been fashioned 
to inspire love in such a man as you. I was bewildered 
by my passion and your coldness; yet had I not been 
utterly mad I must have known the awful end of such 
a flame once kindled. But could I inspire love.? Could 
you love me.? That was all in the world I cared about 
— thinking nothing of the end, knowing all hope was 
dead for me, and nothing in life unless you loved me. 

0 Carus, if I have inspired one brief moment of ten- 
derness in you, deal mercifully with the sin ! Guilty as 

1 am, false as I am, I can not add a lie and say that 
I am sorry that you love me, that for one blessed mo- 
ment you said you loved me. Now it is ended. I can 
not be your wife. 1 am too mean, too poor a thing for 

15 205 


THE RECKONING 


hate. Deal with me gently, Cams, lest your wrath 
strike me dead here at the altar of outraged Love ! ” 

I rose to my feet, feeling blindly for support, and 
rested against the great carved columns of the bed. A 
cold rage froze me, searching every vein with icy numb- 
ness that left me like a senseless thing. That passed; 
I roused, breathing quietly and deeply, and looked 
about, furtive, lest the familiar world around had 
changed to ashes, too. 

Presently my dull senses were aware of what was 
at my ^eet, kneeling there, face buried in clasped hands, 
too soft, too small, too frail to hold a man’s whole des- 
tiny: And, as I bent to kiss them, I scarce dared clasp 
them, scarce dared lift her to my arms, scarce dared 
meet the frightened wonder in her eyes, and the full 
sweetness of them, and the love breaking through their 
azure, as I think day must dawn in paradise ! 

“ Now, in the name of God,” I breathed, “ we two, 
always forever one, through life, through death, here 
upon earth, and afterward ! I wed you now with heart 
and soul, and ring your body with my arms ! I stand 
your champion, I kneel your lover, Elsin, till that day 
breaks on a red reckoning with him who did this sin ! 
Then I shall wed you. Will you take me? ” 

She placed her hands on my shoulders, gazing at 
me from her very soul. 

“ You need not wed me — so that you love me, Carus.” 

Arms enlacing one another, we walked the floor in 
silence, slowly passing from her chamber into mine, and 
back again, heads erect, challenging that Destiny whose 
shadowy visage we could now gaze on unafraid. 

206 


DESTINY 


The dusk of day was dissolving to a silvery night, 
through which the white-throat’s song floated in distant, 
long-drawn sweetness. The little stream’s whisper grew 
louder, too; and I heard the trees stirring in slumber, 
and the breeze in the river-reeds. 

There, at the open window, standing, she lifted her 
sweet face, looking into mine. 

“ What will you do with me ? I am yours.” 

“ Wait for you.” 

“ You need not wait, if it be your will.” 

“ It is not my will that we ever part. Nor shall we, 
wedded or not. Yet we must wait our wedded happi- 
ness.” 

“ You need not. Cams.” 

“ I know it and I wait.” 

“ So then — so then you hold me innocent — you raise 
me back to the high place I fell from, blinded by 
love ” 

“ You never fell from your high place, Elsin.” 

“ But my unpardonable sin ” 

“What sin.f^ The evil lies with him.” 

“ Yet, wedded, I sought you — I loved you — I love 
you now — I offer my amends to you — myself to do with 
as it pleases you.” 

“ Sweetheart, you could not stir from the high place 
where you reign enthroned though I and Satan leagued 
to pull you down. I, not you, owe the amends; I, not 
you, await your pleasure. Yours to command, mine to 
obey. Now, tell me, love, where my honor lies.^ ” 

“ Linked with mine, Cams.” 

“ And yours ? ” 


m 


THE RECKONING 


“ In the high places, where I sit unsullied, waiting 
for you.” 

For a long while we stood there together at the win- 
dow. Candle-light faded from the dim casements of the 
shops ; the patrol passed, muskets glittering in the star- 
light, and the tavern lamp went out. 

And when the last tap-room loiterer had slunk away 
to camp or cabin, and when the echo of the patrol’s 
tread had died out in the fragrant darkness, came 
one to the door below, hammering the knocker; and I 
saw his spurs and scabbard shining in the luster of the 
stars, and in my heart a still voice repeated, “ This is 
Destiny came a-knocking, armed with Fate. This is the 
place and the hour ! ” 

And it was so, for presently the landlord came to 
the door, calling me softly. “ I come,” I answered, and 
turned to Elsin. “ Shall I to-morrow find you the same 
sweet maid I have loved from the first all blindly.? — the 
same dear tyrant, plaguing me, coaxing me, blaming, 
praising, unreasoning, inconstant — the same brave, im- 
pulsive, loyal friend that one day, God willing, shall 
become my wife.? ” 

“ Yes, Cams.” 

We kissed one another; hands tightened, lingered, 
and fell apart. And so I went away down the dim stairs, 
strangely aware that Destiny was waiting there for 
me. And it was, shaped like Colonel Hamilton, who 
rose to meet me, offering the hand of Fate; and I 
took it and held it, looking him straight between the 
eyes. 

‘‘ I know why you have come,” I said, smiling. “ I 

208 


DESTINY 


am to journey north and move heaven and earth to 
thwart this hell’s menace flung at us by Walter Butler. 
Ah, sir, I was certain of it — I knew it. Colonel Hamil- 
ton. You make me very, very happy. Pray you, inform 
his Excellency of my deep gratitude. He has chosen fire 
to fight fire, I think. Every thought, every nerve in 
me is directed to the ruin of this man. Waking, sleep- 
ing, in sickness, in health, in adversity, in prosperity, 
soul and body and mind are bent on his undoing. I 
shall speak to the Oneidas with clan authority; I shall 
speak to the Iroquois at Thendara; I shall listen to the 
long roll of the dead; I shall read the record of ages 
from the sacred belts. The eyes of the forest shall see 
for me; the ears of the wilderness listen for me; every 
tree shall whisper for me, every leaf spy for me; and 
the voices of a thousand streams shall guide me, and the 
eight winds shall counsel me, and the stars stretch out 
their beams for me, pointing the way, so that this man 
shall die and his wickedness be ended forever.” 

I held out my hand and took the written order in 
silence, reading it at a glance. 

“ It shall be done. Colonel Hamilton. When am I 
to leave ” 

‘‘ Now. The schooner starts when you set foot 
aboard, Mr. Renault.” 

And, after a moment: “ Madam goes with you.? ” 

“ To West Point.” 

“ I trust that she finds some few comforts aboard 
the Wind-Flower. I could not fill all the list, Mr. 
Renault; but a needle will do much, and the French 
fabrics are pretty ” 


^09 


^HE RECKONING 


He looked at me, smiling : “ For you, sir, there are 
shirts and stockings and a forest dress of deerskin.” 

“ A rifle, too ? ” 

“ The best to be had, and approved by Jack Mount. 
Murphy himself has sighted it. Have I done well.^ ” 

“ Yes,” said I grimly, and, opening the door of the 
kitchen, bade the landlord have our horses saddled and 
brought around, and asked him to send a servant to 
warn Elsin that we must leave within the quarter. 

Presently I heard our horses at the block, stamping 
the sod, and a moment later Elsin came, eager, radiant, 
sweetly receiving Colonel Hamilton when I named him. 
He .saluted her hand profoundly ; then, as it still rested 
lightly on his fingers, he turned to me, almost bluntly: 
“ Never, Mr. Renault, can we officers forgive you for 
denying us this privilege. I have heard, sir, that Mrs. 
Renault was beautiful and amiable ; I never dreamed that 
such loveliness could be within our lines. One day you 
shall make amends for this selfishness to every lady and 
every officer on the Hudson.” 

At the word which named her as my wife her face 
crimsoned, but in her eyes the heavenly sweetness dawned 
like a star, dazzling me. 

“ Colonel Hamilton,” she said, “ in quieter days — 
when this storm passes — we hope to welcome you and 
those who care to wait upon a wife whose life is but a 
quiet study for her husband’s happiness. Those whom 
he cares for I care for. We shall be glad to receive 
those he counts as friends.” 

“May I be one, Renault.^” he said impulsively, 
offering both hands. 


210 


DESTINY 


“ Yes,” I said, returning his clasp. 

We stood silent a moment, Elsin’s gloved fingers rest- 
ing on my sleeve ; then we moved to the door, and I lifted 
Elsin to the saddle and mounted, Hamilton walking at 
my stirrup, and directing me in a low voice how I must 
follow the road to the river, how find the wharf, what 
word to give to the man I should find there waiting. And 
he cautioned me to breathe no word of my errand ; but 
when I asked him where my reports to his Excellency 
were to be sent, he drew a sealed paper from his coat 
and handed it to me, saying : “ Open that on the first day 
of September, and on your honor, not one hour before. 
Then you shall hear of things undreamed of, and under- 
stand all that I may not tell you now. Be cautious, 
be wise and deadly. We know you ; our four years’ trust 
in you has proved your devotion. But his Excellency 
warns you against rashness, for it was rashness that 
made you useless in New York. And I now say to 
you most solemnly that I regard you as too unselfi^, 
too good a soldier, too honorable a gentleman to let 
aught of a personal nature come between you and duty. 
And your duty is to hold the Iroquois, warn the Oneidas, 
and so conduct that Butler and his demons make no 
movement till you and Colonel Willett hold the check- 
mate in your proper hands. Am I clear, Mr. Renault ” 

“ Perfectly,” I said. 

He stepped aside, raising his cocked-hat ; we passed 
him at a canter with precise salute, then spurred forward 
into the star-spangled night. 


^11 


CHAPTER IX 


INTO THE NORTH 

Head winds, which began with a fresh breeze off 
King’s Ferry and culminated in a three days’ hurricane, 
knocked us about the Tappan Zee, driving us from point 
to cove; and for forty-eight hours I saw our gunboats, 
under bare poles, tossing on the gray fury of the Hud- 
son, and a sloop of war, sprit on the rocks, buried under 
the sprouting spray below Dobbs Ferry. Safer had we 
been in the open ocean off the Narrows, where the great 
winds drive bellowing from the Indies to the Pole; but 
these yelling gales that burst from the Highlands struck 
us like the successive discharges of cannon, and the 
Wind-Flower staggered and heeled, reeling through the 
Tappan Zee as a great water-fowl, crippled and stung 
to terror, drives blindly into the spindrift, while shot 
on shot strikes, yet ends not the frantic struggle. 

Once we were beaten back so far that, in the dark 
whirlwind of dawn, I saw a fire-ball go whirring aloft 
and spatter the eastern horizon. Then, through the 
shrilling of the tempest, a gun roared to starboard, and 
at the flash a gun to port boomed, shaking our decks. 
We had beaten back within range of the British lines, 
and the batteries on Cock Hill opened on us, and a 
guard-ship to the west had joined in. Southeast a red 
212 


INTO THE NORTH 


glare leaped, and died out as Fort Tryon fired a mortar, 
while the Wind-Flower, bulwarks awash, heeled and 
heeled, staggering to the shelter of Tetard’s Hill. South- 
ward we saw the beacons ablaze, marking the chevaux de 
frise below Fort Lee, and on the Jersey shore the patrol’s 
torches flashing along the fort road. But we had set 
a bit o’ rag under Tetard’s Hill, and slowly we crept 
north again past Yonkers, struggling desperately at 
Phillips, but making Boar’s Hill and Dobbs Ferry by 
mid-afternoon. And that night the wind shifted so sud- 
denly that from Tappan to Tarry town was but a jack- 
snipe’s twist, and we lay snug in Haverstraw Bay, under 
the lee of the Heights of North Castle, scarce an hour’s 
canoe-paddle from the wharf where we had embarked 
four days before. 

And now delay followed delay, a gunboat holding 
us twenty-four hours at Dobbs Ferry — why, I never 
knew — and, at the Chain, two days’ delay were required 
before they let us pass. 

When at last we signaled West Point, at the close of 
one long, calm August afternoon, through the flaming 
mountain sunset, the black fortress beckoned us to an- 
chor, nor had we any choice but to obey the silent sum- 
mons from those grim heights, looming like a thunder- 
cloud against the cinders of the dying sun. 

That night a barge put out, and an officer boarded 
us, subjecting us to a most rigid scrutiny. Since, the 
great treason a savage suspicion had succeeded rou- 
tine vigilance; the very guns among the rocks seemed 
alive, alert, listening, black jaws parted to launch a 
thunderous warning. A guard was placed o'n deck; we 
213 


THE RECKONING 


were not allowed to send a boat ashore ; not even per- 
mitted to communicate with the fishing-smack and row- 
boats that hovered around us, curious as gulls around 
a floating plank. 

And all this time — from the very instant of depart- 
ure, through three days and a night of screaming winds 
and cataracts of water, through the delays where we 
rode at anchor below the Chain and Dobbs Ferry, under 
a vertical sun that started the pitch in every seam — Elsin 
Grey, radiant, transfigured, drenched to the skin, faced 
storm and calm in an ecstasy of reckless happiness. 

Wild winds from the north, shouting among the 
mountains, winds of the forests, that tore the cries of 
exultation from our lips and scattered sound into space, 
winds of my own northland that poured through our 
veins, cleansing us of sordid care and sad regret and 
doubt, these were the sorcerers that changed us back 
to children while the dull roaring of their incantations 
filled the world. We two alone on earth, and the vast, 
veiled world spread round, outstretching to the limits 
of eternity, all ours to conquer, ours for our pleasure, 
ours to reign in till the moon cracked and the stars faded, 
and the sun went down forever and a day, and all was 
chaos save for the blazing trail of blessed souls, soaring 
to glory through the majesty of endless night. 

In the sunlit calms, riding at our moorings, much we 
discussed eternity and creation. Doctrines once terrible 
seemed now harmless and without menace, dogmas dis- 
solved into thinnest air, blown to the notliingness from 
whence they came; for, strangely, all teachings and 
creeds and laws of faith narrowed to the oldest of pre- 
2U 


INTO THE NORTH 


cepts ; and, ponder and question as we might, citing 
prophet and saint and holy men inspired, all came to 
the same at last, expressed in that cardinal precept so 
safe in its simplicity — the one law embodied in one word 
governing heaven and commanding earth. 

“ Aye,” said she, “ but how interpret it.? For a 
misstep means certain damnation. Cams. Once when I 
spelled out ‘ Love ’ for you, I stumbled and should have 
fallen had you not held me up.” 

“ You held me up, sweetheart ! I was closer to the 
brink than you.” 

She looked thoughtfully at the fortress; the shore 
was so near that, through the calm darkness, we could 
hear the sentinels calling from post to post and the 
ripple of the Hudson at the base of the rocks. 

But these conferences concerning the philosophy of 
ethics overweighted two hearts as young as ours; and 
while our new love and the happiness of it at times re- 
acted in solemn argument and the naive searching of our 
souls, mostly a reckless delight in one another and in our 
freedom dominated; and we lived for the moment only, 
chary and shy of stirring slumbering embers that must 
one day die out or flash to a flame as fierce as that blaze 
that bars the gates of heaven from lost souls. 

Knowing the need of haste, and having in my pocket 
instructions which I believed overweighed even the voice- 
less orders of the West Point cannon, I argued with the 
officer of the guard on deck, day after day, to let us go ; 
but it was only after fifteen days’ detention there at 
anchor that I found out that it was an order from his 
Excellency himself which held us there. 

215 


THE RECKONING 


Then, one morning in early September, boats from 
the fortress put off loaded with provisions for the Wind- 
Flower; the guard disembarked in their barge, and an 
officer, in a cockle-shell, shouted : “ Good luck to you ! 
The Mouse-trap’s sprung, and the Mouse is squeaking ! ” 
And with that he tossed a letter on deck. It was ad- 
dressed to me: 


“ Headquarters, Philadelphia, 

“ September 2d, ’81. 

“ Cards Renault, Esq’re : 

^ “ Sir — On receipt of this order you will immediately 
proceed from your anchorage off West Point to Albany, 
disembark, and travel by way of Schenectady to Johns- 
town, and from there to Butlersbury, where you will 
establish yourself in the manor-house, making it your 
headquarters, unless force of circumstances prevent. 
Fifty Tryon County Rangers, to be employed as one 
scout or several, are placed under your authority; the 
militia, and such companies of Continental troops as 
are now or may later be apportioned to Tryon County, 
will continue under the orders of Colonel Marinus 
Willett. Your duties you are already familiar with; 
your policy must emanate from your own nature 
and deliberate judgment concerning the situation as it 
is or as it threatens. Close and cordial cooperation with 
Colonel Willett, and with the various civil and military 
authorities in Tryon County, should eventually accom- 
plish the object of your mission, which is, first, to pre- 
vent surprise from all invasion; second, to prevent a 
massacre of the Oneida Nation. 

216 


INTO THE NORTH 

“ Authority is herewith given you to open and read 
the sealed orders delivered to you by myself on your 
departure.” 

The letter was signed by Colonel Hamilton. I stared 
at his signature, then at the name of the city from 
whence the letter was dated-^Philadelphia. What in 
Heaven’s name were “ Headquarters ” doing in Phila- 
delphia.^ W^as his Excellency there Was the army 
there.? Impossible — the army which for months had 
been preparing to storm New York.? — impossible! 

I thrust my hand into the breast-pocket of my coat, 
drew out the sealed orders, tore them open, and read : 

“ Until further notice such reports as you are re- 
quired to render to his Excellency, the Commander-in- 
Chief, should be sent to headquarters, near Yorktown, 
Virginia ” 

Virginia! The army that I had seen at Dobbs 
Ferry, at White Plains, at North Castle, was that army 
on its way to Virginia.? What! hurl an entire army a 
thousand miles southward .? And had Sir Henry Clinton 
permitted it.? 

In a sort of stupor I read and reread the astonishing 
words: “Virginia.? There was a British army in Vir- 
ginia. Yorktown.? Yes, that British army was at 
Yorktown, practically at bay, with a youth of twenty- 
three — my own age — harassing it — the young General 
Lafayette ! Greene, too, was there, his chivalry cutting 
up the light troops of General Lord Cornwallis ” 

“ By Heaven! ” I cried, springing to my feet, “ his 
Excellency never meant to storm New York! The 
French fleet has sailed for the Chesapeake! Lafayette 


THE RECKONING 


is there, Greene is there, Morgan, Sumter, Lee, Pickens, 
all are there ! His Excellency has gone to catch Corn- 
wallis in a mouse-trap, and Sir Henry is duped ! ” 

Mad with excitement and delight, I looked up at the 
great fortress on the river, and knew that it was safe 
in its magnificent isolation — safe with its guns and ram- 
parts and its four thousand men — knew that the key to 
the Hudson was ours, and would remain ours, although 
the army, like a gigantic dragon, had lifted its great 
wings and soared southward, so silently that none, not 
even the British spies, had dreamed its destination was 
other than the city of New York. 

And, as I looked, the signals on the fortress changed ; 
the guard-boats hailed us, the harmless river-craft gave 
us right of way, and we spread our white sails once more, 
drawing slowly northward, under the rocky pulpits of 
the heights, past shore forests yet unbroken, edged with 
acres of reeds and marshes, from which the water-fowl 
arose in clouds ; past pine-crowned capes and mountains, 
whose bases were bathed in the great river ; past lonely 
little islands, on, on, into the purple mystery of the 
silent north. 

Now there remained no high sky -bastion to halt us 
with voiceless signal and dumb cannon, nothing beyond 
but Albany; and, beyond Albany, the frontier; and be- 
yond the frontier a hellish war of murder and the 
torch, a ceaseless conflict of dreadful reprisals, sterile 
triumphs, terrible vengeance, a saturnalia of private 
feuds, which spared neither the infirm nor the infant — 
nay, the very watch-dog at the door received no quarter 
in the holocaust. 


218 


INTO THE NORTH 


Elsin had begged and begged that she should not 
be left there at West Point, saying that Albany was 
safer, though I doubted the question of safety weighed 
in her choice; but she pleaded so reasonably, so sweetly, 
arms around my neck, and her lips whispering so that 
my cheek felt their soft flutter, that I consented. There 
I was foolish, for no sooner were we in sight of the Al- 
bany hills than arms and lips were persuading again, 
guilelessly explaining how simple it would be for her to 
live at Johnstown, while I, at Butlersbury, busied myself 
with my own affairs. 

And so we stood in earnest conference, while nearer 
and nearer loomed the hills, with the Dutch town atop, 
brick houses, tiled roofs, steep streets, becoming plainer 
and plainer to the eye. 

There seemed to be an unusual amount of shipping 
at the Albany wharves as we glided in, and a great num- 
ber of wagons and people scurrying about. In fact, I 
had never before observed such a bustle in Albany streets, 
but thought nothing of it at the moment, for I had not 
seen the town since war began. As the schooner dropped 
anchor at the wharf we were still arguing; as, arm in 
arm, we followed our two horses and our sea-chests which 
the men bore shoreward and up the steep hill to the 
Half-Moon Tavern, we argued every step ; at the tavern 
we argued, she in her chamber, I in mine, the door open 
between; argued and argued, finally rising in our ear- 
nestness and meeting on the common threshold to con- 
tinue a discussion in which tears, lips, and arms soon 
supplanted logic and reason. 

Had she remained at West Point, although that for- 

219 


THE RECKONING 


tress could not have been taken except by a regular siege, 
still she might have been subjected to all the horrors of 
blockade and bombardment, for since his Excellency had 
abandoned the Hudson with his army and was already 
half-way to Virginia, nothing now stood between West 
Point and the heavy British garrison of New York. 

It was my knowledge of that more than her pleading 
that reconciled me to leave her in Albany. 

But I was soon to learn that she was by no means 
secure in the choice I had made for her; for presently 
she retired to her own chamber and lay down on her bed 
to rest for an hour or so before supper, in order to re- 
cover from the fatigue and the constant motion of the 
long voyage; and I went out into the town to inquire 
where Colonel Willett might be found. 

The sluggish Dutch burghers of Albany appeared 
to be active enough that lovely September afternoon; 
hurrying hither and thither through the streets, and not 
one among them sufficiently civil to stop and give me an 
answer to my question concerning Colonel Willett. At 
first I could make nothing of this amazing bustle and 
hurry; wagons, loaded with household furniture, clat- 
tered through the streets or toiled up and down the hills, 
discharging bedding, pots and pans, chairs, tables, the 
family clock, and Heaven knows what, on to the wharves, 
where a great many sloops and other craft were moored, 
the Wind-Flower among them. 

In the streets, too, wagons were standing before fine 
residences and shops; servants and black slaves piled 
them high with all manner of goods. I even saw a green 
parrot in a cage, perched atop of a pile of corded bed- 


INTO THE NORTH 


ding, and the bird cocked his head and called out con- 
tinually : “ Gad-a-mercy ! Gad-a-mercy ! Gad-a-mercy ! ” 

An invalid soldier of Colonel Livingston’s regiment, 
his right arm bandaged in splints, was standing across 
the street, apparently vastly amused by the bird in the 
wagon ; and I crossed over to him and asked what all this 
exodus might signify. 

“ Why, the town is in a monstrous fright, friend,” 
he drawled, cradling his shattered arm and puffing 
away at his cob-pipe. “ Since April, when them red- 
devils of Brant’s struck Cherry Valley for the second 
time, and cleaned up some score and odd women and 
children, these here thrifty Dutchmen in Albany have 
been ready to pack up and pull foot at the first breath 
o’ foul news.” 

‘‘ But,” said I, “ what news has alarmed them now ? ” 

“ Hey.? Scairt ’em? Waal, rumors is thicker than 
spotted flies in the sugar-bush. Some say the enemy are 
a-scalping at Torlock^ some say Little Falls. We heard 
last week that Schenectady was threatened. It may be 
true, for there’s a pest o’ Tories loose in the outlying 
county, and them there blood}^ Iroquois skulk around the 
farms and shoot little children in their own dooryards.” 

‘‘ Do you believe there is any danger in Albany ? ” 
I asked incredulously. 

He shrugged his shoulders, nursing his bandaged 
arm. 

Then, troubled and apprehensive, I asked him where 
I might find Colonel Willett, and he said that a scout 
was now out toward Johnstown, and that Willett led 
it. This was all he knew, all the information I could 
16 221 


THE RECKONING 


get from him. Returning along the dusty, steep streets 
to the Half-Moon Tavern, I called in the stolid Dutch 
landlord, requesting information; but he knew nothing 
at all except that a number of timid people were packing 
up because an express had come in the night before with 
news that a body of Tories and Indians had attacked 
Cobleskill, taken a Mr. Warner, and murdered the entire 
family of a Captain Dietz — father, mother, wife, four 
little children, and a Scotch servant-girl, Jessie Dean. 

Observing the horror with which I received the news 
he shook his head, pulled at his long pipe for a few 
moments in thoughtful silence, and said : 

“ What shall we do, sir.? They kill us everywhere. 
Better die at home than in the bush. I think a man’s 
as safe here in Albany as in any place, unless he quits 
all and leaves aflPairs to go to ruin to skulk in one o’ the 
valley forts. But they’ve even burned Stanwix now, 
and the blockhouses are poor defense against Iroquois 
fire-arrows. If I had a wife I’d take her to Johnstown 
Fort; it’s built of stone, they say. Besides, Marinus 
Willett is there. I wish to God he were here ! ” 

We lingered in the empty tap-room for a while, talk- 
ing in low voices of the peril; and I was certainly 
amazed, so utterly unprepared was I to find such a 
town as Albany in danger from the roaming scalping 
parties infesting the frontier. 

Still, had my own headquarters been in Albany, I 
should have considered it the proper place for Elsin; 
but under these ominous, unlooked-for conditions I dared 
not leave her here, even domiciled with some family of 
my acquaintance, as I had intended. Indeed, I learned 


INTO THE NORTH 


that the young patroon himself had gone to Heldeberg 
to arm his tenantry, and I knew that when Stephen Van 
Rensselaer took alarm it was not at the idle whistling 
of a kill-deer plover. 

As far as I could see there was now nothing for 
Elsin but to go forward with me — strange irony of fate ! 
— to Johnstown, perhaps to Butlersbury, the late resi- 
dence of that mortal enemy of mine, who had brought 
upon her this dreadful trouble. How great a trouble 
it might prove to be I dared not yet consider, for the 
faint hope was ever in me that this unholy marriage 
might not stand the search of Try on County’s parish 
records — that the poor creature he had cast off might 
not have been his mistress after all, but his wife. Yes, 
I dared hope that he had lied, remembering what Mount 
and the Weasel told me. At any rate, I had long since 
determined to search what parish records might remain 
undestroyed in a land where destruction had reigned for 
four terrible years. That, and the chance that I might 
slay him if he appeared as he had threatened, were the 
two fixed ideas that persisted. There was little certainty, 
however, in either case, for, as I say, the records, if ex- 
tant, might only confirm his pledged word, and, on the 
other hand, I was engaged by all laws of honor not to 
permit a private enmity to swerve me from my public 
duty. Therefore, I could neither abandon all else to 
hunt him down if he appeared as he promised to appear, 
nor tsike time in record-searching, unless the documents 
were close at hand. 

Perplexed, more than anxious, I went up-stairs and 
entered my chamber. The door between our rooms still 
^23 


THE RECKONING 


swung open, and, as I stepped forward to close it, I saw 
Elsin there, asleep on her bed, fingers doubled up in her 
rosy palms. So young, so pitifully alone she seemed, 
lying there sleep-flushed, face upturned, that my eyes 
dimmed as I gazed. Bitter doubts assailed me. I knew 
that I should have asked a flag and sent her north to 
Sir Frederick Haldimand — even though it meant a final 
separation for us — rather than risk the chances of my 
living through the armed encounter, the intrigues, the 
violence which were so surely approaching. I could do 
so still ; it was not too late. Colonel Willett would give 
me a flag! 

Miserable, undecided, overwhelmed with self- 
reproach, I stood there looking upon the unconscious 
sleeper. Sunlight faded from the patterned wall; that 
violet tint, which lingers with us in the north after the 
sun has set, deepened to a sadder color, then slowly 
thickened to obscurity; and from the window I saw the 
new moon hanging through tangled branches, dull as 
a silver-poplar leaf in November. 

What if I die here on the frontier.? The question 
persisted, repeating itself again and again. And my 
thoughts ran on in somber disorder: If I die — then we 
shall never know wedded happiness — never know the 
sweetest of intimacies. Our lives, uncompleted, what 
meaning is there in such lives? As for me, were my 
life to end all incomplete, why was I born? To live on, 
year after year, escaping the perils all are heir to, and 
then, when for the first instant hfe’s true meaning is 
disclosed, to die, sterile, blighting, desolating another 
life, too? And must we put away offered happiness to 
224 


INTO THE NORTH 


wait on custom at our peril? — to sit cowed, before con- 
vention, juggling with death and passion? 

Darkness around me, darkness in my soul, I stood 
staring at her where she lay, arms bent back and small 
hands doubled up ; and an overwhelming rush of tender- 
ness and apprehension drew me forward to bend above 
her, hovering there, awed by the beauty of her — the pure 
lids, the lashes resting on the cheeks, the red mouth so 
exquisitely tranquil, curled like a scarlet petal of a 
flower fallen on snow. 

Her love and mine! What cared we for laws that 
barred it? — what mattered any law that dared attempt 
to link her destiny with that man who might, perhaps, 
wear a title as her husband — and might not. Who 
joined them? No God that I feared or worshiped. 
Then, why should I not sunder a pact inspired by hell 
itself ; and if the law of the land made by men of the 
land permitted us no sanctuary in wedlock, then why did 
we not seek that shelter in a happiness the law forbids, 
inspired by a passion no law could forbid? 

I had but to reach forward, to bend and touch her, 
and where was Death’s triumph if I fell at last? What 
vague and terrible justice could rob us of these hours? 
Never, never had I loved her as I did then. She breathed 
so quietly, lying there, that I could not see her body stir ; 
her stillness awed me, fascinated me; so still, so inert, 
so marvelously motionless, that her very soul seemed 
asleep within her. Should I awake her, this child whose 
calm, closed lids, whose soft lashes and tinted skin, whose 
young soul and body were in my keeping here under a 
strange roof, in a strange land? 

225 


THE RECKONING 


Slowly, very slowly, a fear grew in me that took the 
shape of horror. My reasoning was the reasoning of 
Walter Butler! — my argument his damning creed! 
Dazed, shaken, I sank to my knees, overwhelmed by my 
own perfidy ; and she stirred in her slumber and stretched 
out one little hand. All the chivalry, all the manhood 
in me responded to that appeal in a passion of loyalty 
which swept my somber heart clean of selfishness. 

And there in the darkness I learned the lesson that 
she believed I had taught to her — a lesson so easily for- 
gotten when the heart’s loud clamor drowns all else, and 
every pulse throbs reckless response. And it was cold 
reasoning and chill logic for cooling hot young blood — 
but it was neither reason nor logic which prevailed, I 
think, but something — I know not what — something in- 
born that conquered spite of myself, and a guilty and 
rebellious heart that, after all, had only asked for 
love, a' any price — only love, but all of it, its sweet- 
ness unbridled, its mystery unfathomed — lest the body 
die, and the soul, unsatisfied, wing upward to eternal 
ignorance. 

As I crouched there beside her, in the darkness be- 
low the tall hall-clock fell a-striking; and she moved, 
sighed, and sat up — languid-eyed and pink from 
slumber. 

“ Carus,” she murmured, “how long have I slept? 
How long have you been here, my darling? Heigho! 
Why did you wake me ? I was in paradise with you but 
now. Where are you? I am minded to drowse, and 
go find you in paradise again.” 

She pushed her hair aside and turned, resting her 

S26 


INTO THE NORTH 


chin on one hand, regarding me with sweet, sleepy, 
humorous eyes that glimmered like amethysts in the 
moonlight. 

“ Were ever two lovers so happy? ” she asked. “ Is 
there anything on earth that we lack.?^ — possessing each 
other so completely. Tell me. Cams.” 

“ Nothing,” I said. 

“ Nothing,” she echoed, leaning toward me and rest- 
ing in my arms for a moment, then laid her hands on 
my shoulders, and, raising herself to a sitting posture, 
fell a-laughing to herself. 

“ While you were gone this afternoon,” she said, 
“ and I was lying here, eyes wide open, seeming to feel 
the bed sway like the ship, I fell to counting the tick- 
ing of the stair-clock below, and thinking how each sec- 
ond was recording the eternity of my love for you. 
And as I lay a-listening and thinking, came one by the 
window singing ‘ John O’Bail ’, and I heard voices in 
the tap-room and the clatter of pewter flagons. On 
a settle outside the tap-room window, full in the sun, 
sat the songster and his companions, drinking new ale 
and singing ‘ J ohn O’Bail ’ — a song I never chanced to 
hear before, and I shall not soon forget it for lack of 
schooling ” — and she sang softly, sitting there, clasp- 
ing her knees, and swaying with the quaint rhythm : 

* Where do you wend your way, John O’Bail, 
Where do you wend your way ? ’ 

'I follow the spotted trail 
Till a maiden bids me stay.’ 

‘Beware of the trail, John O’Bail, 

Beware of the trail, I say ! ’ 

< 1 ^ 


THE RECKONING 


“ Thus it runs, Carus, the legend of this John 
O’Bail, how he sought the wilderness, shunning his kind, 
and traveled and trapped and slew the deer, until one 
day at sunrise a maid of the People of the Morning 
hailed him, bidding him stay: 

‘^^Turn to the fire of dawn, John O’Bail, 

Turn to the fire of dawn ; 

The doe that waits in the vale 

Was a fawn in the year that’s gone ! ’ 

And John O’Bail he heeds the hail 
And follows her on and on. 

“ Oh, Carus, they sang it and sang it, hammering 
their pewters together, and roaring the chorus, and that 
last dreadful verse: 

Where is the soul of you, John O’Bail, 

Where is the soul you slew ? 

There’s Painted Death on the trail. 

And the moccasins point to you. 

Shame on the name of John O’Bail — ’ ” 

She hesitated, peering through the shadows at me: 
“Who was John O’Bail, Cams.? What is the Painted 
Death, and who are the People of the Morning.? ” 

“ John O’Bail was a wandering fellow who went 
a-gipsying into the Delaware country. The Delawares 
call themselves ‘ People of the Morning.’ This' John 
O’Bail had a son by an Indian girl — and that’s what 
they made the ballad about, because this son is that 
mongrel demon, Cornplanter, and he’s struck the fron- 
tier like a catamount gone raving mad. He is the 
‘ Painted Death.’ ” 


228 


INTO THE NORTH 


“ Oh,” she said thoughtfully, ‘‘ so that is why they 
curse the name of John O’Bail.” 

After a moment she went on again : “ Well, you’ll 
never guess who it was singing away down there ! I 
crept to my windows and peeped out, and there. Cams, 
were those two queer forest-running fellows who stopped 
us on the hill that morning ” 

“Jack Mount!” I exclaimed. 

“ Yes, dear, and the other — the little wrinkled fel- 
low, who had such strangely fine manners for a Coureur- 
de-Bois ” 

“ The Weasel!” 

“ Yes, Cams, but very dmnk, and boisterous, and 
cutting most amazing capers. They went off, finally, 
arm in arm, shuffling, reeling, and anon breaking into 
a solemn sort of dance; and everybody gave them wide 
berth on the street, and people paused to look after 
them, marking them with sour visages and wagging 
heads — ” She stopped short, finger on lips, listening. 

Far up the street I heard laughter, then a plaintive, 
sustained howling, then more laughter, drawing nearer 
and nearer. 

Elsin nodded in silence. ’ I sprang up and descended 
the stairs. The tap-room was lighted with candles, and 
the sober burghers who sat within, savoring the early 
ale, scarce noted my entrance, so intent were they listen- 
ing to the approaching tumult. 

The peculiar howling had recommenced. Stepping 
to the open door I looked out, and beheld a half-dozen 
forest-runners, in all the glory of deep-fringed buck- 
skin and bright wampum, slowly hopping round and 
229 


THE RECKONING 


round in a circle, the center of which was occupied by 
an angry town watchman, lanthorn lighted, pike in 
hand. As they hopped, lifting their moccasined feet 
as majestically as turkeys walking in a muddy road, 
fetching a yelp at every step, I perceived in their gro- 
tesque evolutions a parody upon a Wyandotte scalp- 
dance, the while they yapped and yowled, chanting : 

Ha-wa-sa-say 
Ha! Hal 
Ha-wa-sa-say ! ” 

“ Dance, watchman, dance ! ” shouted one of the 
rangers, whom I knew to be Jack Mount, poking the 
enraged officer in the short ribs with the muzzle of his 
rifle; and the watchman, with a snarl, picked up his 
feet and began to tread a reluctant measure, calling 
out that he did not desire to dance, and that they were 
great villains and rogues and should pay for it yet. 

I saw some shopkeepers putting up the shutters be- 
fore their lighted windows, while the townspeople stood 
about in groups, agape, to see such doings in the public 
streets. 

‘‘ Silence ! ” shouted Mount, raising his hand. “ Peo- 
ple of Albany, we have shown you the famous Wyan- 
dotte dance ; we will now exhibit a dancing bear ! Houp 1 
Houp! Weasel, take thy tin cup and collect shillings! 
Ow ! Ow ! ” And he dropped his great paws so that they 
dangled at the wrist, laid his head on one side, and be- 
gan sidling around in a circle with the grave, measured 
tread of a bear, while the Weasel, drinking-cup in hand, 
industriously trotted in and out among the groups of 
2S0 


INTO THE NORTH 


scandalized burghers, thrusting the tin receptacle at 
them, and talking all the while : “ Something for the 
bear, gentlemen — a trifle, if you please. Everybody 
is permitted to contribute — you, sir, with your bones 
so nicely wadded over with fat — a shilling from you. 
What.? How dare you refuse.? Stop him, Tim!” 

A huge ranger strode after the amazed burgher, 
blocking his way ; the thrifty had taken alarm, but the 
rangers herded them back with persuasive playfulness, 
while the little Weasel made the rounds, talking cheer- 
fully all the time, and Mount, great fists dangling, 
minced round and round, with a huge simper on his 
countenance, as though shyly aware of his own grace. 

“ Tim Murphy should go into the shops,” he called 
out. “ There are a dozen fat Dutchmen a-peeking 
through the shutters at me, and I dance before no man 
for less than a shilling. Houp I Houp 1 How much is 
in thy cup. Cade.? Lord, what a thirst is mine! Yet 
I dance — villains, do you mark me.? Oh, Cade, yonder 
pretty maid who laughs and shows her teeth is welcome 
to the show and naught to pay — unless she likes. Tim, 
I can dance no more ! Elerson, bring the watchman ! ” 

The Weasel trotted up, rattling the coins so un- 
willingly contributed by the economical ; the runner 
addressed as Elerson tucked his arm aflPectionately into 
the arm of the distracted watchman and strolled up, 
followed by Tim Murphy, the most redoubtably notori- 
ous shot in North America. 

Laughing, disputing, shouting, they came surging 
toward the Half-Moon Tavern, dragging the watch- 
man, on whom they lavished many endearments. The 


THE RECKONING 


crowd parted with alacrity as Mount, thumbs in his 
armpits, silver-moleskin cap pushed back on his cluster- 
ing curls, swaggered ahead, bowing right and left as 
though an applauding throng heralded the progress of 
an emperor and his suite. 

Here and there a woman laughed at the handsome, 
graceless fellows; here and there a burgher managed 
to pull a grin, spite of the toll exacted. 

“ Now that our means permit us, we are going to 
drink your healths, good people,” said Mount affably, 
shaking the tin cup ; “ and the health of that pretty 
maid who showed her teeth at me. Ladies of Albany, 
if you but knew the wealth of harmless frolic caged in 
the heart that beats beneath a humble rifle-frock ! Eh, 
Tim.? Off with thy coonskin, and sweep the pdpulace 
with thy courtly bow ! ” 

Murphy lifted his coonskin cap, flourishing it till 
the ringed fur-tail became a blur. Elerson, in a spasm 
of courtesy, removed the watchman’s tricorn as well as 
his own ; the little Weasel backed off, bowing step by 
step, until he backed past me into the tap-room, followed 
by the buckskinned crew. 

“ Now, watchman, have at thee ! ” roared Mount, as 
the sloppy pewters were brought. 

And the watchman, resigned, pulled away at his 
mug, furtive eyes on the landlord, who, with true deli- 
cacy, looked the other way. At that moment Mount 
espied me and rose, pewter in hand, with a shout that 
brought all to their feet. 

“ Death to the Iroquois ! ” he thundered, ‘‘ and a 
health to Captain Renault of the Rangers ! ” 

232 


INTO THE NORTH 


Every eye was on me; the pewters were lifted, re- 
versed, and emptied. The next instant I was in the 
midst of a trampling, buckskinned mob; they put me 
up on their shoulders and marched around the tap-room, 
singing “ Morgan’s Men ” ; they set me on their table 
amid the pools of spilled ale, and, joining hands, danced 
round and round, singing “ The New Yorker ” and 
“ John O’Bail,” until more ale was fetched and a cup 
handed up to me. 

“ Silence ! The Captain speaks ! ” cried Mount. 

“ Captain ? ” said I, laughing. “ I am no officer.” 

There was a mighty roar of laughter, amid which I 
caught cries of ‘‘ He doesn’t know.” “ Where’s the 
‘ Hazette ’ ? ” “ Show him the ‘ Gazette ’ ! ” 

The stolid landlord picked up a newspaper from a 
table, spread it deliberately, drew his horn spectacles 
from his pocket, wiped them, adjusted them, and read 
aloud a notice of my commission from Governor Clinton 
to be a senior captain in the Tryon County Rangers. 
Utterly unprepared, dumb with astonishment, I stared 
at him through the swelling din. Somebody thrust the 
paper at me. I read the item, mug in one hand, paper 
in t’other. 

“ Death to the Iroquois ! ” they yelled. “ Hurrah 
for Captain Renault ! ” 

“ Silence ! ” bawled Mount. “ Listen to the Cap- 
tain ! ” 

“ Rangers of Tryon,” I said, hesitating, “ this 
great honor which our Governor has done me is incom- 
prehensible to me. What experience have I to lead such 
veterans? — men of Morgan’s, men of Hand’s, men of 
233 


THE RECKONING 


Saratoga, of Oriska, of Stillwater? — I who have never 
laid rifle in anger — I who have never seen a man die 
by violence? ” 

The hush was absolute. 

‘‘ It must be,” said I, “ that such service as I have 
had the honor to render has made me worthy, else this 
commission had been an affront to the Rangers of Try on 
County. And so, my brothers, that I may not shame 
you, I ask two things: obedience to orders; respect for 
my rank; and if you render not respect to my charac- 
ter, that will be my fault, not your own.” 

I raised my pewter : “ The sentiment I give you is : 
‘ The Rangers ! My honor in their hands ; theirs in 
mine ! ’ Pewters aloft ! Drink ! ” 

Then the storm broke loose; they surged about the 
table, cheering, shaking their rifles and pewters above 
their heads, crying out for me to have no fear, that 
they would aid me, that they would be obedient and 
good — a mob of uproarious, overgrown children, swayed 
by sentiment entirely. And I even saw the watchman, 
maudlin already, dancing all by himself in a corner, 
and waving pike and lanthorn in martial fervor. 

“ Lads,” I said, raising my hand for silence, “ there 
is ale here for the asking, and nothing to pay. But 
we leave at daybreak for Butlersbury.” 

There w^as a dead silence. 

“ That is all,” I said, smiling ; and, laying my hand 
on the table, leaped lightly to the floor. 

“Are we to drink no more?” asked Jack Mount, 
coming up, with round blue eyes widening. 

“ I did not say so. I said that we march at day- 


INTO THE NORTH 


break. You veterans of the pewter know best how much 
ale to carry with you to bed. All I require are some 
dozen steady legs in the morning.” 

A roar of laughter broke out. 

“ You may trust us, Captain ! Good night, Cap- 
tain ! A health to you, sir ! We will remember ! ” 

Instead of returning to my chamber to secure a few 
hours’ rest, I went out into the dimly lighted street, 
and, striking a smart pace, arrived in a few moments 
at the house of my old friend, Peter Van Schaick, now 
Colonel in command of the garrison. The house was 
pitch-dark, and it was only after repeated rapping that 
the racket of the big bronze knocker aroused an ancient 
negro servant, who poked his woolly pate from the 
barred side-lights and informed me, in a quavering voice, 
that Colonel Van Schaick was not at home, refusing all 
further information concerning him, 

“ Joshua ! Joshua ! ” I said gently ; “don’t you know 
me ? ” 

There was a silence, then a trembling : “ Mars’ 
Renault, sub, is dat you.? ” 

“ It is I, Joshua, back again after four years. Tell 
me where I may find your master ? ” 

“ Mars’ Carus, suh, de Kunnel done gone to de Foht, 
suh — Foht Orange on de hill.” 

The old slave used the ancient name of the fort, but 
I understood. 

“ Does anybody live here now except the Colonel, 
Joshua.? ” 

“ No, suh, nobody ’cep’ de Kunnel — ’sensin’ me, 
Mars’ Carus.” 


g35 


THE RECKONING 


“ Joshua,” I said, under my breath, “ you know all 
the gossip of the country. Tell me, do you remember 
a young gentleman who used to come here before the 
war — a handsome, dark-eyed gentleman — Lieutenant 
Walter N. Butler.? ” 

There was an interval of silence. 

“ Wuz de ossifer a-sparkin’ de young misses at 
Gin’ral Schuyler’s.? ” 

“ Yes, Joshua.” 

“ A-co’tin’ Miss Betty, sub.?” 

“ Yes, yes. Colonel Hamilton married her. That 
is the man, Joshua. Tell me, did you ever hear of Mr. 
Butler’s marriage in Butlersbury .? ” 

A longer silence, then: “ No, suh. Hit wuz de talk 
oh de town dat Suh John Johnsing done tuk Miss Polly 
Watts foh his lady -wife, an’ all de time po’1’1 Miss Claire 
wuz a-settin’ in Foht Johnsing, dess a-cryin’ her eyes 
out. But Mars’ Butler he done tuk an’ run off ’long 
o’ dat half-caste lady de ossifers call Carolyn Mon- 
tour ” 

“What!” 

“ Yaas, suh. Dat de way Mars’ Butler done carry 
on, suh. He done skedaddle ’long o’ M’ss Carolyn. 
Hit wuz a Mohawk weddin’. Mars’ Carus.” 

“ He never married her .? ” 

“ Mars’ Butler he ain’ gwine ma’hy nobody ef he 
ain’ ’bleeged, suh. He dess lak all de young gentry, 
suh — ’scusin’ you’se’f. Mars’ Carus.” 

I nodded in grim silence. After a moment I asked 
him to open the door for me, but he shook his aged 
head, saying : “ Ef a ossifer done tell you what de 
S36 


INTO THE NORTH 


Kunnel done tell me, what you gwine do, Mars’ 
Carus, suh? ” 

“ Obey,” I said briefly. You’re a good servant, 
Joshua. When Colonel Van Schaick returns, say to 
him that Captain Renault of the Rangers marches to 
Butlersbury at sunup, and that if Colonel Van Schaick 
can spare six bat-horses and an army transport-wagon, 
to be at the Half-Moon at dawn. Captain Renault will 
be vastly obliged to him, and will certainly render a 
strict accounting to the proper authorities.” 

Then I turned, descended the brick stoop, and 
walked slowly back to my quarters, a prey to appre- 
hension and bitter melancholy. For if it were true that 
Walter Butler had done this thing, the law of the land 
was on his side ; and if the war ended with him still alive, 
the courts must sustain him in this monstrous claim on 
Elsin Grey. Thought halted. Was it possible that 
Walter Butler had dared invade the tiger-brood of 
Catrine Montour to satisfy his unslaked lust.^^ 

Was it possible that he dared affront the she-demon 
of Catherinestown by ignoring an alliance with her 
fiercely beautiful child — an alliance that Catrine Mon- 
tour must have considered legal and binding, however 
irregular it might appear to jurists. 

I was astounded. Where passion led this libertine, 
nothing barred his way — neither fear nor pity. And 
he had even dared to reckon with this frightful hag, 
Catrine Montour — this devil’s spawn of Frontenac — 
and her tawny offspring. 

I had seen the girl, Carolyn, at Guy Park a splen- 
did young animal, of sixteen then, darkly beautiful, wild 
17 237 


THE RECKONING 


as a forest-cat. No wonder the beast in him had bris- 
tled at view of her; no wonder the fierce passion in her 
had leaped responsive to his forest courtship. By 
heaven, a proper mating in the shaggy hills of Dan- 
ascara! Yes, but when the male beast emerges, yellow 
eyes fixed on the dead line that should bar him from 
the haunts of men, then, then it is time that a man shall 
arise and stand against him — stand for honor and right 
and light, and drive him back to the darkness of his lair 
again, or slay him at the sunlit gates of that civilization 
he dared to challenge. 


238 


CHAPTER X 


SERMONS IN STONES 

By sunup we had left the city on the three hills, 
Elsin, Colonel Van Schaick, and I, riding our horses 
at the head of the little column, followed by an escort 
of Rangers. Behind the Rangers plodded the laden 
bat-horses, behind them creaked an army transport- 
wagon, loaded with provisions and ammunition, drawn 
by two more horses, and the rear was covered by another 
squad of buckskinned riflemen, treading lightly in 
double file. 

Nobody had failed me. My reckless, ale-swilling 
Rangers had kept the tryst with swollen eyes but steady 
legs; a string of bat-horses stood at the door of the 
Half-Moon when Elsin and I descended; and a moment 
later the army wagon came jolting and bumping down 
the hilly street, followed by Colonel Van Schaick and 
a dozen dragoons. 

When he saw me he did not recognize me, so broad 
and tall had I become in these four years. Besides, I 
wore my forest-dress of heavily fringed doeskin, and 
carried the rifle given me by Colonel Hamilton. 

“ Hallo, Peter ! ” I called out, laughing. 

“ Youl Can that be you, Carus ! ” he cried, spur- 
ring up to me where I sat my horse, and seizing me by 
^39 


THE RECKONING 


both caped shoulders. “ Lord ! Look at the lad ! Six 
feet, or I’m a Mohawk ! — six feet in his moccasins, and 
his hair sheered close and his cap o’ one side, like any 
forest-swaggering free-rifle! Carus! Cams! Damme, 
if I’ll call you Captain ! Didn’t you greet me but now 
with your impudent ‘ Hallo, Peter ! ’ Didn’t you, you 
undisciplined rogue By gad, you’ve kept your prom- 
ise for a heart-breaker, you curly-headed, brown-eyed 
forest dandy I ” 

He gave me a hug and a hearty shake, so that the 
thmms tossed, and my little round cap of doeskin flew 
from my head. I clutched it ere it fell, and keeping 
it in my hand, presented him to Elsin. 

“We are affianced, Peter,” I said quietly. “ Colonel 
Willett must play guardian until this fright in Albany 
subsides.” 

“ Oh, the luck o’ that man Willett I ” he exclaimed, 
beaming on Elsin, and saluting the hand she stretched 
out. “ Why do you not choose a man like me, madam ? 
Heaven knows, such a reward is all I ask of my country’s 
gratitude! And you are going to marry this fellow 
Cams.f^ Is this what sinners such as he may look for.^ 
Gad, madam, I’m done with decency, and shall rig me 
in fringed shirt and go whipping through the woods, 
if such maidens as you find that attractive ! ” 

“ I find you exceedingly attractive. Colonel Van 
Schaick,” she said, laughing — “ so attractive that I 
ask your protection against this man who desires to 
be rid of me at any cost.” 

Van Schaick swore that I was a villain, and offered 
to run off with her at the drop of her ’kei chief, but 
^40 


SERMONS IN STONES 


when I spoke seriously of the danger at Albany, he 
sobered quickly enough, and we rode to the head of 
the little column, now ready to move. 

“ March,” I said briefly ; and we started. 

“ I’ll ride a little way with you,” said the Colonel — 
far enough to say that when Joshua gave me your 
message on my return last night I sent my orderly to 
find the wagon and animals and provision for three 
days’ march. You can make it in two if you like, or 
even in twenty-four hours.” 

I thanked him and asked about the rumors which 
had so alarmed the people in Albany; but he shook his 
head, saying he knew nothing except that there were 
scalping parties out, and that he for one believed them 
to be the advance of an invading force from Canada. 

‘‘ You ask me where this sweet lady will be safest,” 
he continued, “ and I answer that only God knows. 
Were I you, Carus, I should rather have her near me; 
so if your duty takes you to Johnstown it may be best 
that she remain with you until these rumors become 
definite. Then, it might be well that she return to Al- 
bany and stay with friends like the Schuylers, or the 
Van Rensselaers, or Colonel Hamilton’s lady, if these 
worthy folk deem it safe to remain.” 

“ Have they gone? ” I asked. 

“ They’re preparing to go,” he said gloomily. 
“ Oh, Carus, when we had Walter Butler safe in Albany 
jail in ’78, why did we not hang him? He was taken 
as a spy, tried, and properly condemned. I remember 
well how he pretended illness, and how that tender- 
hearted young Marquis Lafayette was touched by his 
Ml 


THE RECKONING 


plight, and begged that he be sent to hospital in the com- 
fortable house of some citizen. Ah, had we known what 
that human tiger was meditating ! Think of it. Cams ! 
You knew him, did you not, when he came a-courting 
Margaret Schuyler.^ Lord! who could believe that 
Walter Butler would so soon be smeared with the blood 
of women and children.^ Who could believe that this 
young man would so soon be damned with the guilt of 
Cherry Valley.^ ” 

We rode on in silence. I dared not glance at Elsin; 
I found no pretext to stop Van Schaick; and, still in 
perfect silence, we wheeled northwest into the Schenec- 
tady road, where Peter took leave of us in his own simple, 
hearty fashion, and wheeled about, galloping back up 
the slope, followed by his jingling dragoons. 

I turned to take my last look at the three hills and 
the quaint Dutch city. Far away on the ramparts of 
the fort I saw our beloved flag fluttering, a gay spot 
in the sunshine, with its azure, rose, and silvery tints 
blending into the fresh colors of early morning. I saw, 
too, the ruined fort across the river, where that British 
surgeon. Dr. Stackpole, composed the immortal tune of 
Yankee Doodle ” to deride us — that same tune to 
which my Lord Cornwallis was now dancing, while we 
whistled it from West Point to Virginia. 

As I sat my saddle there, gazing at the city I had 
thought so wonderful when I was a lad fresh from 
Broadalbin Bush, I seemed once more to wander with 
my comrades, Stephen Van Rensselaer, Steve Watts, 
and Jack Johnson — now Sir John — a-fishing troutlings 
from the Norman’s Kill, that ripples through the lovely 
M2 


SERMONS IN STONES 


vale of Tawasentha. Once more I seemed to see the 
patroon’s great manor-house through the drooping foli- 
age of the park elms, and the stately mansion of our 
dear General Schuyler, with its two tall chimneys, its 
dormers, roof-rail, and long avenue of trees ; and on 
the lawn I seemed to see pretty little Margaret, now 
grown to womanhood and affianced to the patroon ; and 
Betty Schuyler, who scarce a year since wedded my 
handsome Colonel Hamilton — that same lively Betty 
who so soon sent Walter Butler about his business, 
though his veins were like to burst with pride o’ the 
blood in them, that he declared came straight from the 
Earls of Arran and the great Dukes of Ormond and of 
Ossery. 

“ Of what are you thinking? ” asked Elsin softly. 

“ Of my boyhood, dearest. Yonder is the first city 
I ever beheld. Shall I tell you of it — and of that shy 
country lad who came hither to learn something of de- 
portment, so that he might venture to enter an assembly 
and forget his hands and feet? ” 

“ Were you ever awkward. Cams? ” 

“ Awkward as a hound-pup learning to walk.” 

‘‘ I shall never believe it,” she declared, laughing ; 
and we moved forward on the Schenectady road, 
Murphy, Mount, Elerson, and the little Weasel trotting 
faithfully at heel, and the brown column trailing away 
in their dustless wake. 

I had not yet forgotten the thrill of her quick em- 
brace when, as we met at the breakfast-table by candle- 
light, I had told her of my commission and of our Gov- 
ernor’s kindness. And just to see the flush of pride 
243 


THE RECKONING 


in her face, I spoke of it again; and her sweet eyes’ 
quick response was the most wonderful to me of all the 
fortune that had fallen to my lot. I turned proudly 
in my saddle, looking back upon the people now en- 
trusted to me — and as I looked, pride changed to appre- 
hension, and a quick prayer rose in my heart that I, a 
servant of my country, might not prove unequal to the 
task set me. 

Sobered, humbled, I rode on, asking in silence God’s 
charity for my ignorance, and His protection for her 
I loved, and for these human souls entrusted to my care 
in the dark hours of the approaching trial. 

North and northwest we traveled on a fair road, 
which ran through pleasant farming lands, stretches of 
woods, meadows, and stubble-fields. At first we saw 
men at work in the fields, not many, but every now and 
again some slow Dutch yokel, with his sunburned face 
turned from his labor to watch us pass. But the few 
farmhouses became fewer, and these last were deserted. 
Finally no more houses appeared, and stump-lots 
changed to tangled clearings, and these into second 
growth, and these at last into the primeval forests, 
darkly magnificent, through which our road, now but 
a lumber road, ran moist and dark, springy and deep 
with the immemorial droppings of the trees. 

Without command of mine, four lithe riflemen had 
trotted off ahead. I now ordered four more to act on 
either flank, and called up part of the rear-guard to 
string out in double file on either side of the animals 
and wagon. The careless conversation in the ranks, the 
sudden laugh, the clumsy skylarking all ceased. To- 
244 


SERMONS IN STONES 


bacco-pipes were emptied and pouched, flints and pans 
scrutinized, straps and bandoleers tightened, moccasins 
relaced. The batmen examined ropes, wagon-wheels, 
and harness, and I saw them furtively feeling for their 
hatchets to see that everything was in place. 

Thankful that I had a company of veterans and 
no mob of godless and silly trappers, bawling contempt 
of everything Indian, I unconsciously began to read 
the signs of the forest, relapsing easily into that cau- 
tious custom which four years’ disuse had nothing 
rusted. 

And never had man so perfect a companion in such 
exquisite accord with his every mood and thought as I 
had in Elsin Grey. Her sweet, reasonable mind was 
quick to comprehend. When I fell silent, using my 
ears with all the concentration of my other senses, she 
listened, too, nor broke the spell by glance or word. 
Yet, soon as I spoke in low tones, her soft replies were 
ready, and when my ever restless eyes reverted, resting 
a moment on her, her eyes met mine with that perfect 
confidence that pure souls give. 

At noon we halted to rest the horses and eat, the 
pickets going out of their own accord. And I did not 
think it fit to give orders where none were required in 
this company of Irregulars, v/hose discipline matched 
regiments more pretentious, and whose alignment was 
suited to the conditions. Braddock and Bunker Hill 
were lessons I had learned to regard as vastly more im- 
portant than our good Baron’s drill-book. 

As I sat eating a bit of bread, cup of water in the 
other hand. Jack Mount came swaggering up with that 
245 


THE RECKONING 


delightful mixture of respect and familiarity which 
brings the hand to the cap but leaves a grin on the face. 

“ Well, Jack? ” I asked, smiling. 

“Have you noticed any sign, sir?” he inquired. 
Secretly self-satisfied, he was about to go on and inform 
me that he and Tim Murphy had noticed a stone stand- 
ing against a tree — for I saw them stop like pointers 
on a hot grouse-scent just as we halted to dismount. 
I was unwilling to forestall him or take away one 
jot of the satisfaction, so I said: “What have you 
seen ? ” 

Then he beamed all over and told me ; and the Weasel 
and Tim Murphy came up to corroborate him, all 
eagerly pointing out the stone to me where it rested 
against the base of a black ash. 

“ Well,” said I, smiling, “ how do you interpret that 
sign ? ” 

“ Iroquois ! ” said the rangers promptly. 

“Yes, but are they friendly or hostile?” 

The question seemed to them absurd, but they an- 
swered very civilly that it was a signal of some sort 
which could only be interpreted by Indians, and that 
they had no doubt that it meant some sort of mischief 
to us. 

“ Men,” I said quietly, “ you are wrong. That 
stone leaning upon a tree is a friendly message to me 
from a body of our Oneida scouts.” 

They stared incredulously. 

“ I will prove it,” said I. “ Jack, go you to that 
stone. On the under side you will find a number of 
white marks made with paint. I can not tell you how 
246 


SERMONS IN STONES 


many, but the number will indicate the number of 
Oneidas who are scouting for us ahead.” 

Utterly unconvinced, yet politely obedient, the 
blond giant strode off across the road, picked up the 
great stone as though it were a pompion, turned it over, 
uttered an exclamation, and bore it back to us. 

“ You see,” I said, ‘‘ twenty Oneida scouts will join 
us about two o’clock this afternoon if we travel at the 
same rate that we are traveling. This white circle 
traced here represents the sun; the straight line the 
meridian. Calculating roughly, I should set the time 
of meeting at two o’clock. Now, Jack, take the stone 
to the stream yonder and scrub off the paint with moss 
and gun-oil, then drop the stone into the water. And 
you, Tim Murphy, go quietly among the men and cau- 
tion them not to fire on a friendly Oneida. That is all, 
lads. We march in a few moments.” 

The effect upon the rangers was amusing; their 
kindly airs of good-natured protection vanished; Mount 
gazed wildly at me; Tim Murphy, perfectly convinced 
yet unable to utter a word, saluted and marched off, 
while Elerson and the Weasel stood open-mouthed, 
fingering their rifles until the men began to fall in 
silently, and I put up Elsin and mounted my roan, mo- 
tioning Murphy and Jack Mount to my stirrups. 

“ Small wonder I read such signs,” I said. “ I am 
an Oneida chief, an ensign, and a sachem. Come freely 
to me when signs of the Iroquois puzzle you. It would 
not have been very wise to open fire on our own scouts.” 

It seemed strange to them — it seemed strange to me 
— that I should be instructing the two most accomplished 
247 


THE RECKONING 


foresters in America. Yet it is ever the old story ; all 
else they could read that sky and earth, land and water, 
tree and rock held imprinted for savant eyes, but they 
could not read the simple signs and symbols by which 
the painted men of the woods conversed with one an- 
other. Pride, contempt for the savage — these two 
weaknesses stood in their way. And no doubt, now, they 
consoled themselves with the thought that a dead Iro- 
quois, friendly or otherwise, was no very great calamity. 
This was a danger, but I did not choose to make it worse 
by harping on it. 

About two o’clock a ranger of the advanced guard 
came running back to say that some two score Iroquois, 
stripped and painted for war, were making signs of 
amity from the edge of the forest in front of us. 

I heard Mount grunt and Murphy swearing softly 
under his breath as I rode forward, with a nod to Elsin. 

“ Now you will see some friends of my boyhood,” I 
said gaily, unlacing the front of my hunting-shirt as 
I rode, and laying it open to the wind. 

“ Cams ! ” she exclaimed, “ what is that blue mark 
on your breast? ” 

“ Only a wolf,” I said, laughing. “ Now you shall 
see how we Oneidas meet and greet after many years! 
Look, Elsin! See that Indian standing there with his 
gun laid on his blanket? The three rangers have taken 
to cover. There they stand, watching that Oneida like 
three tree-cats.” 

As I cantered up and drew bridle Elerson called out 
that there were twenty savages in the thicket ahead, and 
to be certain that I was not mistaken. 

S48 


SERMONS IN STONES 


The tall Oneida looked calmly up at me ; his glitter- 
ing eyes fell upon my naked breast, and, as he looked, 
his dark face lighted, and he stretched out both hands. 

“ Onehda! ” he ejaculated. 

I leaned from my saddle, holding his powerful hands 
in a close clasp. 

“ Little Otter ! Is it you, my younger brother ? Is 
it really you ? ” I repeated again and again, while his 
brilliant eyes seemed to devour my face, and his sinewy 
grip tightened spasmodically. 

“ What happiness, Onehda ! ” he said, in his softly 
sonorous Oneida dialect. “ What happiness for the 
young men — and the sachems — and the women and chil- 
dren, too, Onehda. It is well that you return to us — to 
the few of us who are left. Koue! ” 

And now the Oneidas were coming out of the wil- 
lows, crowding up around my horse, and I heard 
everywhere my name pronounced, and everywhere out- 
stretched hands sought mine, and painted faces were 
lifted to mine — even the blackened visage of the war- 
party’s executioner relaxing into the merriest of smiles. 

“ Onehda,” he said, “ do you remember that feast 
when you were raised up ? ” 

“Does an Oneida and a Wolf forget ” I said, 
smiling. 

An emphatic “ No! ” broke from the painted throng 
about me. 

Elsin, sitting her saddle at a little distance, watched 
us wide-eyed. 

“ Brothers,” I said quietly, “ a new rose has budded 
in Tryon County. The Oneidas will guard it for the 
S49 


THE RECKONING 


honor of their nation, lest the northern frost come steal- 
ing south to blight the blossom.” 

Two score dark eyes flashed on Elsin. She started; 
then a smile broke out on her flushed face as a 
painted warrior stalked solemnly forward, bent like a 
king, and lifted the hem of her foot-mantle to his lips. 
One by one the Oneidas followed, performing the proud 
homage in silence, then stepping back to stand with 
folded arms as the head of the column appeared at the 
bend of the road. 

( I called Little Otter to me, questioning him ; and he 
said that as far as they had gone there were no signs 
of Mohawk or Cayuga, but that the bush beyond should 
be traversed with caution. So I called in the flanking 
rangers, replacing them with Oneidas, and, sending the 
balance of the band forward on a trot, waited five min- 
utes, then started on with a solid phalanx of riflemen 
behind to guard the rear. 

As we rode, Elsin and I talking in low tones, mile 
after mile slipped away through the dim forest trail, 
and nothing to alarm us that I noted, save once when 
I saw another stone set upon a stone; but I knew my 
Oneidas had also seen and examined it, and it had not 
alarmed them sufficiently to send a warrior back to me. 

It was an Oneida symbol; but, of course, my scouts 
had not set it up. Therefore it must have been placed 
there by an enemy, but for what purpose except to 
arrest the attention of an Oneida and prepare him for 
later signals, I could not yet determine. Mount had 
seen it, and spoken of it, but I shook my head, bidding 
him keep his eyes sharpened for further signs. 

^50 


SERMONS IN STONES 


Signs came sooner than I expected. We passed 
stone after stone set on end, all emphasizing the desire 
of somebody to arrest the attention of an Oneida. Could 
it be I.? A vague premonition had scarcely taken shape 
in my mind when, at a turn in the road, I came upon 
three of my Oneida scouts standing in the center of the 
road. The seven others must have gone on, for I saw 
nothing of them. The next moment I caught sight of 
something that instantly riveted and absorbed my 
attention. 

From a huge pine towering ahead of us, and a little 
to the right, a great square of bark had been carefully 
removed about four feet from the ground. On this 
fresh white scar were painted three significant symbols 
— the first a red oblong, about eighteen inches by four, 
on which were designed two human figures, representing 
Indians, holding hands. Below that, drawn in dark 
blue, were a pair of stag’s antlers, of five prongs ; below 
the antlers — a long way below — was depicted in black 
a perfectly recognizable outline of a timber-wolf. 

I rode up to the tree and examined the work. The 
paint was still soft and fresh on the raw wood. Flies 
swarmed about it. I looked at Little Otter, making a 
sign, and his scarcely perceptible nod told me that I 
had read the message aright. 

The message was for me, personally and exclusively ; 
and the red man who had traced it there not an hour 
since was an Iroquois, either Canienga, Onondaga, Ca- 
yuga, or Seneca — I know not which. Roughly, the trans- 
lation of the message was this: The Wolf meant me 
because about it were traced the antlers, symbol of chief- 
S51 


THE RECKONING 


tainship, and below, on the ground, the symbol of the 
Oneida Nation, a long, narrow stone, upright, em- 
bedded in the moss. The red oblong smear represented 
a red- wampum belt; the figures on it indicated that, 
although the belt was red, meaning war, the clasped 
hands modified the menace, so that I read the entire 
sign as follows: 

“ An Iroquois desires to see you in order to converse 
upon a subject concerning wars and treaties.” 

“ Turn over that stone. Little Otter,” I said. 

“ I have already done so,” he replied quietly. 

“ At what hour does this embassy desire to see me.? ” 

He held up four fingers in silence. 

“ Is this Canienga work.? ” 

“ Mohawk ! ” he said bitterly. 

The two terms were synonymous, yet mine was re- 
spectful, his a contemptuous insult to the Canienga 
Nation. No Indian uses the term Mohawk in speaking 
to or of a Mohawk unless they mean an insult. Cani- 
enga is the proper term. 

“ Is it safe for me to linger here while all go for- 
ward.? ” I asked Little Otter, lowering my voice so that 
none except he could hear me. 

He smiled and pointed at the tree. The tree w^as 
enormous, a giant pine, dwarfing the tallest tree within 
range of my vision from where I sat my horse. I 
understood. The choice of this great tree for the in- 
scription was no accident; it now symbolized the sacred 
tree of the Six Nations — the tree of heaven. Beneath 
it any Iroquois was as safe as though he stood at the 
eternal council-fire at Onondaga in the presence of the 
252 


SERMONS IN STONES 

sachems of the Long House. But why had this unseen 
embassy refused to trust himself to this sanctuary? 
Because of the rangers, to whom no redskin is sacred. 

“ Jack Mount,” I said, “ take command and march 
your men forward half a mile. Then halt and await 
me.” 

He obe3^ed without a word. Elsin hesitated, gave 
me one anxious, backward glance, but my smile seemed 
to reassure her, and she walked her black mare for- 
ward. Past me marched the little column. I watched 
it drawing awa}^ northward, until a turn in the forest 
road hid the wagon and the brown-clad rear-guard. 
Then I dismounted and sat down, my back to the giant 
pine, my rifle across my knees, to wait for the red 
ambassador whom I knew would come. 

Minute after minute slipped away. So still it grew 
that the shy forest creatures came back to this forest 
runway, made by dreaded man ; and because it is the 
work of a creature they dread and suspect, their curi- 
osity ever draws them to man-made roads. A cock- 
grouse first stepped out of the thicket, crest erect, ruff 
spread; then a hare loped l^y, halting to sniff in the 
herbage. I watched them for a long while, listening 
intently. Suddenly the partridge wheeled, crest flat- 
tened, and ran into the thicket, like a great rat; the 
hare sat erect, flanks palpitating, then leaped twice, 
and was gone as shadows go. 

I saw the roadside bushes stir, part, and, as I rose, 
an Indian leaped lightly into the road and strode 
straight toward me. He was curiously painted with 
green and orange, and he was stark naked, except that 
18 253 


THE RECKONING 


he wore ankle-moccasins, clout, and a fringed pouch, 
like a quiver, covered with scarlet beads in zigzag 
pattern. 

He did not seem to notice that I was armed, for he 
carried his own rifle most carelessly in the hollow of his 
left arm, and when he had halted before me he coolly 
laid the weapon across his moccasins. 

The dignified silence that always precedes a formal 
meeting of strange Iroquois was broken at length by 
a low, guttural exclamation as his narrow-slitted eyes 
fell upon the tattoo on my bared breast : “ Salute, Roy- 
a-neh!” 

“ Welcome, O Keeper of the Gate,” I said calmly. 

“ Does my younger brother know to which gate- 
warden he speaks ? ” asked the savage warily. 

“ When a Wolf barks, the Eastern Gate-Keepers of 
the Long House listen,” I replied. “ It was so in the 
beginning. What has my elder brother of the Canienga 
to say to me.^ ” 

His cunning glance changed instantly to an abso- 
lutely expressionless mask. My white skin no longer 
made any difference to him. We were now two Iroquois. 

“ It is the truth,” he said. “ This is the message 
sent to my younger brother, Onehda, chief ensign of 
the Wolf Clan of the Oneida nation. I am a belt-bearer. 
Witness the truth of what I say to you — by this belt. 
Now read the will of the Iroquois.” 

He drew from his beaded pouch a black and white 
belt of seven rows. I took it, and, holding it in both 
hands, gazed attentively into his face. 

“ The Three Wolves listen,” I said briefly. 

251 


SERMONS IN STONES 


“ Then listen, noble of the noble clan. The council- 
fire is covered at Onondaga; but it shall burn again at 
Thendara. This was so from the first, as all know. 
The council therefore summons their brother, Onehda, 
as ensign of his clan. The will of the council is the 
will of the confederacy. Hiro! I have spoken.” 

“ Does a single coal from Onondaga still burn under 
the great tree, my elder brother ” I asked cautiously. 

“ The great tree is at Onondaga,” he answered sul- 
lenly ; “ the fire is covered.” 

Which was as much as to say that there was no 
sanctuary guaranteed an Oneida, even at a federal 
council. 

“ Tell them,” I said deliberately, “ that a belt re- 
quires a belt; and, when the Wolves talk to the 
Oneidas, they at Thendara shall be answered. I have 
spoken.” 

“ Do the Three Wolves take counsel with the Six 
Bears and Turtles ” he asked, with a crafty smile. 

“ The trapped wolf has no choice ; his howls appeal 
to the wilderness entire,” I replied emphatically. 

“ But — a trapped wolf never howls, my younger 
brother; a lone wolf in a pit is always silent.” 

I flushed, realizing that my metaphor had been at 
fault. Yet now there was to be nothing between this 
red ambassador and me except the subtlest and finest 
shades of metaphor. 

“ It is true that a trapped wolf never howls,” I 
said ; “ because a pitted wolf is as good as a dead wolf, 
and a dead wolf’s tongue hangs out sideways. But it 
is not so when the pack is trapped. Then the prisoners 
255 


THE RECKONING 


may call upon the Wilderness for aid, lest a whole people 
suffer extermination.” 

“ Will my younger brother take counsel with Onei- 
das.^* ” he asked curiously. 

“ Surely as the rocks of Tryon point to the Dancers, 
naming the Oneida nation since the Great Peace began, 
so surely, my elder brother, shall Onehda talk to the 
three ensigns, brother to brother, clan to clan, lest we 
be utterly destroyed and the Oneida nation perish from 
the earth.” 

“ My younger brother will not come to Thendara ? ” 
he inquired without emotion. 

“ Does a chief answer as squirrels answer one to 
another — as crow replies to crow.^’ ” I asked sternly. 
“ Go teach the Canienga how to listen and how to 
wait ! ” 

His glowing eyes, fastened on mine, were lowered 
to the symbol on my breast, then his shaved head bent, 
and he folded his powerful arms. 

“ Onehda has spoken,” he said respectfully. “ Even 
a Delaware may claim his day of grace. My ears are 
open, O my younger brother.” 

“ Then bear this message to the council : I accept 
the belt; my answer shall be the answer of the Oneida 
nation ; and with my reply shall go three strings. 
Depart in peace. Bearer of Belts ! ” 

Lightly, gracefully as a tree-lynx, he stooped and 
seized his rifle, wheeled, passed noiselessly' across the 
road, turned, and buried himself in the tufted bushes. 
For an instant the green tops swayed, then not a ripple 
of the foliage, not a sound marked the swift course of 
^56 


SERMONS IN STONES 


the naked belt-bearer through the uncharted sea of 
trees. 

Mounting my roan, I wheeled him north at a slow 
walk, preoccupied, morose, sadly absorbed in this new 
order of things where an Oneida now must needs answer 
a Mohawk as an Iroquois should once have answered an 
Erie or an Algonquin. Alas for the great League ! 
alas for the mighty dead! Hiawatha! Atotarho! 
Where were they.? Where now was our own Odasete; 
and Kanyadario, and the mighty wisdom of Dekana- 
widah.? The end of the Red League was already in 
sight ; the Great Peace was broken ; the downfall of the 
Confederacy was at hand. 

At that northern tryst at Thendara, the nine 
sachems allotted to the Canienga, the fourteen sachems 
of the Onondaga, the eight Senecas, the Cayuga ten 
must look in vain for nine Oneidas. And without them 
the Great Peace breaks like a rotten arrow where the 
War-head drops and the feathers fall from the unbound 
nock. 

Strange, strange, that I, a white man of blood 
untainted, must answer for this final tragic catastrophe ! 
Without me, perhaps, the sachems of the three clans 
might submit to the will of the League, for even the 
surly Onondagas had now heeded the League-Call — yes, 
even the Tuscaroras, too. And as for those Delaware 
dogs, they had come,' belly-dragging, cringing to the 
lash of the stricken Confederacy, though now was their 
one chance in a hundred years to disobey and defy. 
But the Lenape were ever women. 

Strange, strange, that I, a white man of unmixed 

257 


THE RECKONING 


blood, should stand in League-Council for the noblest 
clan of the Oneida nation ! 

That I had been adopted satisfied the hereditary 
law of chieftainship; that I had been selected satisfied 
the elective law of the sachems. Rank follows the fe- 
male line; the son of a chief never succeeded to rank. 
It is the matron — the chief woman of the family — who 
chooses a dead chief’s successor from the female line in 
descent ; and thus Cloud on the Sun chose me, her 
adopted; and, dying, heard the loud, imperious chal- 
lenge from the council-fire as the solemn rite ended with: 

^ “ Now show me the man! ” 

And so, knowing that the antlers were lifted and 
the quiver slung across my thigh, she died contented, 
and I, a lad, stood a chief of the Oneida nation. Never 
since time began, since the Caniengas adopted Hia- 
watha, had a white councilor been chosen who had been 
accepted by family, clan, and national council, and rati- 
fied by the federal senate, excepting only Sir William 
Johnson and myself. That Algonquin word “ sachem,” 
so seldom used, so difficult of pronunciation by the Iro- 
quois, was never employed to designate a councilor in 
council; there they used the title, Roy-a-neh, and to 
that title had I answered the belt of the Iroquois, in the 
name of Kayanehenh-Kowa, the Great Peace. 

For what Magna Charta is to the Englishman, what 
the Constitution is to us, is the Great Peace to an Iro- 
quois; and their gratitude, their intense reverence and 
love for its founder, Hiawatha, is like no sentiment we 
have conceived even for the beloved name of Washing- 
ton. 


SER3IONS IN STONES 


Now that the Revolution had split the Great Peace, 
W'hich is the Iroquois League, the larger portion of the 
nation had followed Brant to Canada — all the Canien- 
gas, the greater part of the Onondaga nation, all the 
Cayugas, the one hundred and fifty of our own Oneidas. 
And though the Senecas did not desert their western 
post as keepers of the shattered gate in a house divided 
against itself, they acted with the Mohawks; the Onon- 
dagas had brought their wampum from Onondaga, and 
a new council-fire was kindled in Canada as rallying- 
place of a great people in process of final disinte- 
gration. 

It was sad to me who loved them, who knew them 
first as firm allies of New York province, who under- 
stood them, their true character, their history and tra- 
dition, their intimate social and family life. 

And though I stood with those whom they struck 
heavily, and who in turn struck them hip and thigh, I 
bear witness before God that they were not by nature the 
fiends and demons our historians have painted, not by 
instinct the violent and ferocious scourges that the 
painted Tories made of these children of the forest, 
who for five hundred years had formed a confederacy 
whose sole object was peace. 

I speak not of the brutal and degraded gem de 
prairie — the horse-riding savages of the West, whose 
primal instincts are to torture the helpless and to vio- 
late women — a crime no Iroquois, no Huron, no Algon- 
quin, no Lenni-Lenape can be charged with. But I 
speak for the gem de hois — the forest Indians of the 
East, and of those who maintained the Great League, 
259 


THE RECKONING 


which was but a powerful tribunal imposing peace upon 
half a continent. 

Left alone to themselves, unharassed by men of my 
blood and color, they are a kindly and affectionate peo- 
ple, full of sympathy for their friends in distress, 
considerate of their women, tender to their children, 
generous to strangers, anxious for peace, and pro- 
foundly reverent where their League or its founders 
were concerned. 

Centuries of warfare for self-preservation have made 
them efficient in the arts of war. Ferocity, craft, and 
deception, practised on them by French, Dutch, and 
English, have taught them to reply in kind. Yet these 
somber, engrafted qualities which we have recorded as 
their distinguishing traits, no more indicate their genu- 
ine character than war-paint and sliaven head display 
the customary costume they appear in among their own 
people. The cruelties of war are not peculiar to any 
one people ; and God knows that in all the Iroquois con- 
federacy no savage could be found to match the British 
Provost, Cunningham, or Major Bromfield — no atroci- 
ties could obscure the atrocities in the prisons and 
prison-ships of New York, the deeds of the Butlers, of 
Crysler, of Beacraft, and of Bettys. 

For, among the Iroquois, I can remember only two 
who were the peers in cruelty of Walter Butler and the 
Tory Beacraft, and these were the Indian called Seth 
Henry, and the half-breed hag, Catrine Montour. 

Pondering on these things, perplexed and greatly 
depressed, I presently emerged from the forest-belt 
through which I had been riding, and found our little 
260 


SERMONS IN STONES 


column halted in the open country, within a few minutes’ 
march of the Schenectady highway. 

The rangers looked up at me curiously as I passed, 
doubtless having an inkling of what had been going on 
from questioning the Oneida scouts, for Murphy broke 
out impulsively, “ Sure, Captain, we was that onaisy, 
alanna, that Elerson an’ me matched apple-pipps f’r to 
inthrojuce wan another to that powwow forninst the 
big pine.” 

“ Had you appeared yonder while I was talking to 
that belt-bearer it might have gone hard with me, Tim,” 
I said gravely. 

Riding on past the spot where Jack Mount stood, 
his brief authority ended, I heard him grumbling about 
the rashness of officers and the market value of a good 
scalp in Quebec ; and I only said : “ Scold as much as 
you like. Jack, only obey.” And so cantered forward 
to where Elsin sat her black mare, watching my ap- 
proach. Her steady eyes welcomed, mine responded; 
in silence we wheeled our horses north once more, riding 
stirrup to stirrup through the dust. On either side 
stretched abandoned fields, growing up in weeds and 
thistles, for now we were almost on the Mohawk River, 
the great highway of the border war down which the 
tides of destruction and death had rolled for four 
terrible years. 

There was nothing to show for it save meadows 
abandoned to willow scrub, fallow fields deep in milk- 
weed, goldenrod, and asters ; and here and there a 
charred rail or two of some gate or fence long since 
destroyed. 


261 


THE RECKONING 


Far away across the sand-flats we could see a ruined 
barn outlined against the sunset sky, but no house re- 
mained standing to the westward far as the eye could 
reach. However, as we entered the highway, which I 
knew we:I, because now we were approaching a country 
familiar to me, I, leading, caught sight of a few Dutch 
roofs to the east, and presently came into plain view 
of the stockade and blockhouses of Schenectady, above 
which rose the lovely St. George’s church and the heavy 
walls and four demi-bastions of the citadel which is 
called the Queen’s Fort. 

As we approached in full view of the ramparts there 
was a flash, a ball of white smoke ; and no doubt a sentry 
had fired his musket, such was evidently their present 
state of alarm, for I saw the Stars and Stripes run up 
.on the citadel, and, far away, I heard the conch-horn 
blowing, and the startled music of the light-infantry 
horns. Evidently the sight of our Oneidas, spread far 
forward in a semicircle, aroused distrust. I sent Mur- 
phy forward with a flag, then advanced very deliber- 
ately, recalling the Oneidas by whistle-signal. 

And, as we rode under the red rays of the ^westering 
sun, I pointed out St. George’s to Elsin and the Queen’s 
Fort, and where were formerly the town gates by which 
the French and Indians had entered on that dreadful 
winter night when they burned Schenectady, leaving 
but four or five houses, and the snowy streets all 
wet and crimsoned with the blood of women and chil- 
dren. 

“ But that was many, many years ago, sweetheart,” 
I added, already sorry that I had spoken of such things. 

262 


SERMONS IN STONES 


“ It was in 1690 that Monsieur De Mantet and his 
Frenchmen and Praying Indians did this.” 

“ But people do such things now, Cams,” she said, 
serious eyes raised to mine. 

“ Oh, no ” 

“ They did at Wyoming, at Cherry Valley, at Min- 
nisink. You told me so in New York — before you ever 
dreamed that you and I would be here together.” 

“ Ah, Elsin, but things have changed now that 
Colonel Willett is in the Valley. His Excellency has 
sent here the one man capable of holding the frontier; 
and he will do it, dear, and there will be no more 
Cherry Valleys, no more Minnisinks, no more Wyomings 
now.” 

“ Why were they moving but of the houses in 
Albany, Cams.? ” 

I did not reply. 

Presently up the road I saw Murphy wave his white 
flag; and, a moment later, the Orange Gate, which was 
built like a drawbridge, fell with a muffled report, rais- 
ing a cloud of dust. Over it, presently, our horses’ feet 
drummed hollow as we spurred forward. 

“ Pass, you Tryon County men ! ” shouted the sen- 
tinels; and the dusty column entered. We were in 
Schenectady at last. 

As we wheeled up the main street of the town, march- 
ing in close column between double lines of anxious 
townsfolk, a staff-officer, wearing the uniform of the 
New York line, came clattering down the street from 
the Queen’s Fort, and drew bridle in front of me with 
a sharp, precise salute. 


263 


THE RECKONING 


“ Captain Renault? ” he asked. 

I nodded, returning his salute. 

“ Colonel Gansvoort’s compliments, and you are di- 
rected to report to Colonel Willett at Butlersbury with- 
out losing an hour.” 

“ That means an all-night march,” I said bluntly. 

“ Yes, sir.” He lowered his voice: “ The enemy are 
on the Sacandaga.” 

I stiffened in my stirrups. “Tell Colonel Gans- 
voort it shall be done, sir.” And I wheeled my horse, 
raising my rifle : “ Attention ! — to the left — dress ! 
Right about face! By sections of four — to the right 
— wheel — March I . . . Halt ! Front — dress ! Trail 

— arms ! March ! ” 

The veterans of Morgan, like trained troop-horses, 
had executed the maneuvers before they realized what 
was happening. They were the first formal orders I 
had given. I myself did not know how the orders might 
be obe 3 ^ed until all was over and we were marching out 
of the Orange Gate once more, and swinging northward, 
wagons, bat-horses, and men in splendid alignment, and 
the Oneidas trotting ahead like a pack of foxhounds 
under master and whip. But I had to do with irregu- 
lars ; I understood that. Already astonished and in- 
quiring glances shot upward at me as I rode with Elsin ; 
already I heard a low whispering among the men. But 
I waited. Then, as we turned the hill, a cannon on the 
Queen’s Fort boomed good-by and Godspeed 1 — and our 
conch-horn sounded a long, melancholy farewell. 

It was then that I halted the column, facing them, 
rifle resting across my saddle-bow. 

261 


SERMONS IN STONES 


“ Men of New York,” I said, “ the enemy are on the 
Sacandaga.” 

Intense silence fell over the ranks. 

“ If there be one rifleman here who is too weary to 
enter Johnstown before daylight, let him fall out.” 

Not a man stirred. 

“Very well,” I said, laughing; “if you Try on 
County men are so keen for battle, there’s a dish o’ glory 
to be served up, hot as sugar and soupaan, among the 
Mayfield hills. Come on. Men of New York!” 

And I think they must have wondered there in 
Schenectady at the fierce cheering of Morgan’s men 
as our column wheeled northwest once more, into the 
coming night. 

We entered Johnstown an hour before dawn, not a 
man limping, nor a horse either, for that matter. An 
officer from Colonel Willett met us, directing the men 
and the baggage to the fort which was formerly the 
stone jail, the Oneidas to huts erected on the old camp- 
ing-ground west of Johnson Hall, and Elsin and me to 
quarters at Jimmy Burke’s Tavern. She was already 
half-asleep in her saddle, yet ever ready to rouse her- 
self for a new effort; and now she raised her drowsy 
head with a confused smile as I lifted her from the 
horse to the porch of Burke’s celebrated frontier inn. 

“ Colonel Willett’s compliments, and he will break- 
fast with you at ten,” whispered the young officer. 
“ Good night, sir.” 

“ Good night,” I nodded, and entered the tavern, 
bearing Elsin in my arms, now fast asleep as a worn-out 
child. 


265 


CHAPTER XI 


THE TEST 

I WAS awakened by somebody shaking me. Bewil- 
dered, not recognizing my landlord, but confusing him 
with the sinister visions that had haunted my sleep, I 
grappled with him until, senses returning, I found my- 
self sitting bolt upright in a shaky trundle-bed, clutch- 
ing Jimmy Burke by the collar. 

“ Lave go me shirrt, sorr,” he pleaded — “ f’r the 
saints’ sake, Misther Renault! I’ve the wan shirrt to 
me back ” 

‘‘ Confound you, Jimmy 1 ” I yawned, dropping 
back on my pillow ; “ what do you mean by choking 
me?” 

“ Chocken’, is it, sorr I ” exclaimed the indignant 
Irishman ; “ ’tis me shcalp ye’re afther liftin’ wid a 
whoop an’ a yell, glory be! I’ll throuble ye. Captain 
Renault, f’r to projooce me wig, sorr! ” 

Clutched in my left hand I discovered the unfor- 
tunate landlord’s wig, and I lay there amused and 
astonished while he haughtily adjusted it before the 
tiny triangle of glass nailed on the wall. 

“ Shame on you, Jimmy Burke, to wear a wig to 
cheat some honest Mohawk out of his eight dollars ! ” 
I yawned, rubbing my eyes. 

“ Mohawks, is it? Now, God be good to the haythen 

wdiin James Burrke takes the Currietown thrail ” 

S66 


THE TEST 


“ You’re exempt, you fat rascal ! ” I said, laughing; 
and the dumpy little Irishman gave me a sly grin as he 
retied his stock and stood smoothing down his rumpled 
wig before the glass. 

“ Och ! divil a hair has he left on the wig o’ me ! ” 
he grumbled. “ Will ye get up, sorr.?^ ’Tis ten o’clock, 
lackin’ some contrairy minutes, an’ the officers from the 
foort do be ragin’ f’r lack o’ soupaan ” 

“Are they here.^^ ” I cried, leaping out of bed. 
“ Why didn’t you say so ? Where’s my tub of water ? 
Don’t stand there grinning, I tell you. Say to Colonel 
Willett I’ll join him in a second.” 

The fat little landlord retreated crab-wise. I soused 
my clipped head in the tub, took a spatter-bath like a 
wild duck in a hurry, clothed me in my gay forest-dress, 
making no noise lest I wake Elsin, and ran down the 
rough wooden stairs to the coflPee-room, plump into a 
crowd of strange officers, all blue and buff and gilt. 

“ Well, Cams ! ” came a cool, drawling voice from 
the company ; and I saw the tall, gaunt figure of Colonel 
Marinus Willett sauntering toward me, his hawk’s nose 
wrinkled into a whimsical smile. 

“ Colonel,” I stammered, saluting, then sprang for- 
ward and grasped the veteran’s outstretched hand, 
asking his pardon for my tardiness. 

“ What a great big boy ! ” he commented, holding 
my hand in both of his, and inspecting me from crown 
to heel. “ Is this the lad I’ve heard of — below — ” His 
nose wrinkled again, and his grimly humorous mouth 
twitched. “ Cams, you’ve grown since I last saw you 
at the patroon’s, romping a reel with those rosy Dutch 

m 


THE RECKONING 


lassies from Vrooman’s — eh? That’s well, my son; the 
best dancers were ever the best fighters ! Look at Tim 
Murphy ! As for me, I never could learn to dance with 
you Valley aristocrats. Carus, you should know my of- 
ficers.” And he mentioned names with a kindly, informal 
precision characteristic of a gentleman too great to 
follow conventions, too highly bred to ignore them. 
The consequent compromise was, as I say, a delightfully 
formal informality which reigned among his entourage, 
but never included himself, although he apparently in- 
vited it. In this, I imagine, he resembled his Excellency, 
and have heard others say so; but I do not know, for 
I never saw his Excellency. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” said Colonel Willett casually, 
as he seated himself at the head of the table. And we 
sat down at the signal, I next to the Colonel at his nod 
of invitation. 

The fat little landlord, Burke, notorious for the 
speed with which he fled from Sir John Johnson when 
that warrior-baronet raided Johnstown, came bustling 
into the coffee-room like a fresh breeze from the Irish 
coast, asking our pleasure in a brogue thick enough to 
season the bubbling, steaming bowl of hasty-pudding 
he set before us a moment later. 

“ Jimmy,” said an officer, glancing up at him where 
he stood, thick legs apart, hands clasped behind him, 
and jolly head laid on one side, “ is there any news of 
Sir John Johnson in these parts? ” 

“ Faith,” said Burke, with a toss of his head, “ ’tis 
little I bother meself along wid the likes o’ Sir John. 
Lave him poke his nose into the Sacandagy an’ dhrown 
268 


THE TEST 


there, bad cess to him ! We’ve a thrick to match his, an’ 
wan f ’r the pig ! ” 

“ I’m glad to know that, Jimmy,” said another offi- 
cer earnestly. “ And if that’s the case. Captain Re- 
nault’s Rangers might as well pack up and move back to 
Albany.” 

“ Sure, Captain dear,” he said, turning to me, “ ’tis 
not f’r the likes o’ Jimmy Burke to say it, but there do 
be a fri’nd o’ mine in the Rangers, a blatherin’, blar- 
neyin’, bog-runnin’ lad they call Tim Murphy. ’Tis 
f’r his sake I’d be glad to see the Rangers here — an’ 
ye’ll not misjudge me, sorr, that Jimmy Burke is 
af eared o’ Sir John an’ his red whippets ! ” 

“ Oh, no,” I said gravely ; “ I’m quite ready to leave 
Johnstown to your protection, Jimmy, and march my 
men back to-night — with Colonel Willett’s permis- 
sion ” 

“ Sorra the day ! Och, listen to him. Colonel dear ! ” 
exclaimed the landlord, with an appealing glance at 
Willett. “ Wud ye lave us now, wid th’ ould women 
an’ childer huddled like catthle in the foort, an’ Walther 
Butler at Niagary an’ Sir John on the Sacandagy I 
Sure, ’tis foolin’ ye arre. Captain dear — ^wid the foine 
ale I have below, an’ divil a customer — the town’s that 
crazy wid fear o’ Sir John ! ’Tis not f’r meself I 
shpake, sorr,” he added airily, “ but ’tis the jooty o’ 
the military f’r to projo‘oce thraffic an’ thrade an’ the 
blessing of prosperity at the p’int o’ the bagnet, sorr.” 

“ In that case,” observed Willett, “ you ought to 
stay, Carus. Burke can’t attend to his tavern and take 
time to chase Sir John back to the lakes.” 

19 269 


THE RECKONING 


“ Thrue f’r ye, sorr ! ” exclaimed Burke, with a 
twinkle in his gray eye. “ Where wud th’ b’ys find a 
dhram, sorr, wid Jimmy Burke on a scout, sorr, thrim- 
min’ the Tories o’ Mayfield, an’ runnin’ the Scotch loons 
out o’ Perth an’ the Galways, glory be ! ” 

He bustled out to fetch us a dish of pink clingstone 
peaches, grown in the gardens planted by the great 
Sir William. Truly, Sir John had lost much when he 
lost Johnson Hall; and now, like a restless ghost drawn 
back to familiar places, he haunted the spot that his 
great father had made to bloom like a rose in the wil- 
derness. He was out there now, in the sunshine and 
morning haze, somewhere, beyond the blue autumn mist 
in the north — out there, disgraced, disinherited, shelter- 
less, sullenly brooding, and plotting murder with his 
motley mob of Cayugas and painted renegades. 

Colonel Willett rose and we all stood up, but he 
signaled those who had not finished eating to resume 
their places, and laying a familiar hand on my arm 
led me to the sunny bench outside the door where, at 
his nod, I seated myself beside him. He drew a map 
from his breast-pocket and studied in silence; I waited 
his pleasure. 

The veteran seemed to have grown no older since 
I had last seen him four years since — indeed, he had 
changed little as I remembered him first, sipping his 
toddy at my father’s house, and smiling his shrewd, 
kindly, whimsical smile while I teased him to tell me 
of the French war, and how he had captured Frontenac. 

I was but seventeen years old when he headed that 
revolt in New York City, and, single-handed, halted the 
270 


THE TEST 


British troops on Broad Street and took away their bag- 
gage. I was nineteen when he led the sortie from Stan- 
wix. I had already taken my post in New York when 
he was serving with his Excellency in the Jerseys and 
with Sullivan in the west. 

Of all the officers who served on the frontier, Ma- 
rinus Willett was the only man who had ever held the 
enemy at check. Even Sullivan, returning from his 
annihilation of Indian civilization, was followed by a 
cloud of maddened savages and renegades that settled 
in his tracks, enveloping the very frontier which, by 
his famous campaign, he had properly expected to leave 
unharassed. 

And now Marinus Willett was in command, with 
meager resources, indeed, yet his personal presence on 
the Try on frontier restored something of confidence to 
those who still clung to the devastated region, sowing, 
growing, garnering, and grinding the grain that the 
half-starved army of the United States required to 
keep life within the gaunt rank and file. West Point, 
Albany, Saratoga called for bread; and the men of 
Tryon plowed and sowed and reaped, leaving their dead 
in every furrow — swung their scythes under the Iro- 
quois bullets, cut their blood-wet hay in the face of 
ambush after ambush, stacked their scorched corn and 
defended it from barn, shack, and window. With torch 
and hatchet renegade and Iroquois decimated them; 
their houses kindled into flame; their women and chil- 
dren, scalped and throats cut, were hung over fences 
like dead game; twelve thousand farms lay tenantless; 
by thousands the widows and orphans gathered at the 
271 


THE RECKONING 


blockhouses, naked, bewildered, penniless. There re- 
mained in all Tryon County but eight hundred militia 
capable of responding to a summons — eight hundred 
desperate men to leave scythe and flail and grist-mill 
for their rifles at the dread call to arms. Two dozen 
or more blockhouses, holding from ten to half a hundred 
families each, were strung out between Stanwix Fort and 
Schenectady; these, except for a few forts, foraied the 
outer line of the United States’ bulwarks in the north; 
and this line Willett was here to hold with the scattered 
handful of farmers and Rangers. 

Yet, with these handfuls, before our arrival he had 
already cleaned out Torlock; he had already charged 
through the flames of Currietown, and routed the rene- 
gades at Sharon — leading the charge, cocked-hat in 
hand, remarking to his Rangers that he could catch in 
his hat all the balls that the renegades could fire. Bob 
McKean, the scout, fell that day; nine men, bound to 
saplings, w^ere found scalped; yet the handful under 
Willett turned on Torlock and seized a hundred head 
of cattle for the famishing garrison of Herkimer. Wa- 
warsing, Cobleskill, and Little Falls were ablaze ; 
Willett’s trail lay through their smoking cinders, 
his hatchets hung in the renegades’ rear, his bullets 
drove the raiders headlong from Tekakwdtha Spring to 
the Kennyetto, and his Oneidas clung to the edges of 
invasion, watching, waiting, listening in the still places 
for the first faint sound of that advance that meant 
the final death-grapple. It was coming, surely coming : 
Sir John already harrying the Sacandaga; Haldimand 
reported on the eastern lakes ; Ross and the Butlers ex- 
272 


THE TEST 


pccted from Niagara, and nothing now to prevent Clin- 
ton from advancing up the Hudson from New York, 
skirting West Point, and giving the entire north to 
the torch. This was what confronted Try on County; 
but the army needed grain, and we were there to glean 
what we might between fitful storms, watching that 
solid, thunderous tempest darkening the north from east 
to west, far as the eye could see. 

Colonel Willett had lighted his clay pipe, and now, 
map spread across his knees and mine, he leaned over, 
arms folded, smoking, and examining the discolored and 
wrinkled paper. 

‘‘ Where is Adriutha, Cams ” he drawled. 

I pointed out the watercourse, traced in blue, show- 
ing him the ancient site and the falls near by. 

“ And Carenay ” 

Again I pointed. 

“ Oswaya.?^ ” 

“ Only tradition remains of that lost village,” I said. 
“ Even in the Great Rite those who pronounce the name 
know nothing more than that it once existed. It is so 
with Kayaderos and Danascara; nobody now knows ex- 
actly where they were.” 

“And Thendara.?” 

“ Thendara was, and will he, but is not. In the 
Great Rite of the Iroquois that place where the first 
ceremony, which is called ‘ At the wood’s edge,’ begins 
is called Thendara, to commemorate the ancient place 
where first the Holder of Heaven talked face to face 
with the League’s founder, Hiawatha.” 

The hawk-faced veteran smoked and studied the 
21S 


THE RECKONING 

map for a while; then he removed the pipe from his 
mouth, and, in silence, traced with the smoking stem 
a path. I watched him; he went back to the begin- 
ning and traced the path again and yet again, never 
uttering a word; and presently I began to compre- 
hend him. 

“ Yes, sir,” I said; “ thus will the Long House strike 
the Oneidas — when they strike.” 

“ I have sent belts — ^as you suggested,” observed 
Willett carelessly. 

I was delighted, but made no comment; and pres- 
ently he went on in his drawling, easy manner : “ I can 
account for Sir John, and I can hold him on the Sacan- 
daga; I can account for Haldimand only through the 
cowardice or treachery of Vermont ; but I can hold him, 
too, if he ever dares to leave the lakes. For Sir Henry 
Clinton I do not care a damn ; like a headless chicken he 
tumbles about New York, seeing, hearing nothing, and 
no mouth left to squawk with. His head is off ; one of 
his legs still kicks at Connecticut, t’other paddles aim- 
lessly in the Atlantic Ocean. But he’s done for. Cams. 
Let his own blood cleanse him for the plucking ! ” 

The gaunt Colonel replaced his pipe between his 
teeth and gazed meditatively into the north: 

“But where’s Walter Butler.?” he mused. 

“ Is he not at Niagara, sir.? ” I asked. 

Willett folded his map and shoved it into his breast- 
pocket. “ That,” he said, “ is what I want you to find 
out for me, Carus.” 

He wheeled around, facing me, his kindly face very 
serious : 

274 


THE TEST 


“ I have relieved you of your command, Carus, and 
have attached you to my personal staff. There are 
officers a-plenty to take your Rangers where I send them ; 
but I know of only one man in Tryon County who can 
do what is to be done at Thendara. Send on your belt 
to Sachems of the Long House. Carus, you are a spy 
once more.” 

I had not expected it, now that the Oneidas had 
been warned. Chilled, sickened at the thought of play- 
ing my loathsome role once more, bitter disappointment 
left me speechless. I hung my head, feeling his keen 
eyes upon me ; I braced myself sullenly against the over- 
whelming rush of repulsion surging up within me. My 
every nerve, every fiber quivered for freedom to strike 
that blow denied me for four miserable years. Had I 
not earned the right to face my enemies in the open.^ 
Had I not earned the right to strike ? Had I not waited 
— God! had I not waited.^ 

Appalled, almost unmanned, I bowed my head still 
lower as the quick tears of rage wet my lashes. They 
dried, unshed. 

“ Is there no chance for me ” I asked — “ no chance 
for one honest blow.?^ ” 

His kind eyes alone answered; and, like a school- 
boy, I sat there rubbing my face, teeth clenched, to 
choke back the rebellious cry swelling my hot throat. 

“ Give me an Oneida, then,” I muttered. “ I’ll go.” 

“ You are a good lad, Carus,” he said gently. “ I 
know how you feel.” 

I could not answer. 

“ You know,” he said, “ how many are called, how 

S75 


THE RECKONING 


few chosen. You know that in these times a man must 
sink self and stand ready for any sacrifice, even the 
supreme and best.” 

He laid his hand on my shoulder : “ Carus, I felt 
as you do now when his Excellency asked me to leave 
the line and the five splendid New York regiments just 
consolidated and given me to lead. But I obeyed; I 
gave up legitimate ambition; I renounced hope of that 
advancement all officers rightly desire; I left my New 
York regiments to come here to take command of a few 
farmers and forest-runners. God and his Excellency 
know best ! ” 

I nodded, unable to speak. 

“ There is glory and preferment to be had in Vir- 
ginia,” he said ; “ there are stars to be w'on at Yorktown, 
Carus. But those stars will never glitter on this faded 
uniform of mine. So be it. Let us do our best, lad. 
It’s aU one in the end.” 

I nodded. 

“ And so,” he continued pleasantly, “ I send you to 
Thendara. None knows you for a partizan in this war. 
For four years you have been lost to sight ; and if any 
Iroquois has heard of your living in New York, he must 
believe you to be a King’s man. Your one danger is 
in answering the Iroquois summons as an ensign of a 
nation marked for punishment. How great that dan- 
ger may be, you can judge better than I.” 

I thought for a while. The Canienga who had 
summoned me by belt could not prove I was a partizan 
of the riflemen who escorted me. I might have been 
absolutely non-partizan, traveling under escort of either 

276 


THE TEST 


side that promised protection from those ghostly rovers 
who scalped first and asked questions afterward. 

The danger I ran as clan-ensign of a nation marked 
for punishment was an unknown quantity to me. From 
the Canienga belt-bearer I had gathered that there was 
no sanctuary for an Oneida envoy at Thendara; but 
what protection an ensign of the Wolf Clan might 
expect, I could not be certain of. 

But there was one more danger. Suppose Walter 
Butler should appear to sit in council as ensign of his 
mongrel clan.^^ 

“ Colonel,” I said, “ there is one thing to be done, 
and, as there is nobody else to accomplish this dog’s 
work, I must perform it. I am trying not to be selfish 
— not to envy those whose lines are fallen in pleasant 
places — not to regret the happiness of battle which I 
have never known — not to desire those chances for ad- 
vancement and for glory that — that all young men — 
crave ” 

My voice broke, but I steadied it instantly. 

“ I had hoped one day to do a service which his 
Excellency could openly acknowledge — a service which 
might, one day, permit him to receive me. I have never 
seen him. I think, now, I never shall. But, as you 
say, sir, ambitions like these are selfish, therefore they 
are petty and unworthy. He does know best.” 

The Colonel nodded gravely, watching me, his un- 
lighted pipe drooping in his hand. 

“ There is one thing — before I go,” I said. “ My 
betrothed wife is with me. May I leave her in your 
care, sir.? ” 


THE RECKONING 


“ Yes, Carus.” 

“ She is asleep in that room above — ” I looked up 
at the closed shutters, scarcely seeing them for the blind- 
ing rush of tears ; yet stared steadily till my eyes were 
dry and hot again, and my choked and tense throat 
relaxed. 

“ I think,” said the Colonel, “ that she is safer in 
Johnstown Fort than anywhere else just now. I prom- 
ise you, Carus, to guard and cherish her as though she 
were my own child. I may be called away — you under- 
stand that! — but I mean to hold Johnstown Fort, and 
shall never be too far from Johnstown to relieve it in 
event of siege. What can be done I will do on my 
honor as a soldier. Are you content.? ” 

“ Yes.” 

He lowered his voice : “ Is it best to see her before 
you start.? ” 

I shook my head. 

“ Then pick your Oneida,” he muttered. “ Which 
one .? ” 

“ Little Otter. Send for him.” 

The Colonel leaned back on the bench and tapped 
at the outside of the tavern window. An aide came 
clanking out, and presently hurried away with a mes- 
sage to Little Otter to meet me at Butlersbury within 
the hour, carrying parched corn and salt for three days’ 
rations. 

For a while we sat there, going over personal mat- 
ters. Our sea-chests were to be taken to the fort; my 
financial affairs I explained, telling him where he might 
find my papers in case of accident to me. Then I turned 
278 


THE TEST 


over to him my watch, what money I had of Elsin’s, and 
my own. 

“ If I do not return,” I said, ‘‘ and if this frontier 
can not hold out, send Miss Grey with a flag to New 
York. Sir Peter Coleville is kin to her; and when he 
understands what danger menaces her he will defend 
her to the last ditch o’ the law. Do you understand. 
Colonel.?^ ” 

“ No, Cams, but I can obey.” 

“ Then remember this : She must never be at the 
mercy of Walter Butler.” 

“ Oh, I can remember that,” he said drily. 

For a few moments I sat brooding, head between my 
hands; then, of a sudden impulse, I swung around and 
laid my heart bare to him — told him everything in a 
breath — trembling, as a thousand new-born fears seized 
me, chilling my blood. 

“ Good God ! ” I stammered, “ it is not for myself 
I care now. Colonel ! But the thought of him — of her 
— together — I can not endure. I tell you, the dread of 
this man has entered my very soul; there is terror at a 
hint of him. Can I not stay. Colonel.'^ Is there no way 
for me to stay.^^ She is so young, so alone ” 

Hope died as I met his eye. I set my teeth and 
crushed speech into silence. 

“ The welfare of a nation comes first,” he said slowly; 

“ I know — I know — but ” 

“ All must sacrifice to that principle. Cams. Have 
not the men of New York stood for it.'^ Have not the 
men of Tryon given their all.? I tell you, the army 
shall eat, but the bread they munch is made from blood- 

r/y 


THE RECKONING 


wet grain; and for every loaf they bake a life has been 
offered. Where is the New Yorker who has not faced 
what you are facing At the crack of the ambushed 
rifle our people drop at the plow, and their dying eyes 
look upon wife and children falling under knife and 
hatchet. It must be so if the army is to eat and liberty 
live in this country we dare call our own. And when 
the call sounds j we New Yorkers must go, Carus. Our 
women know it, even our toddling children know it, God 
bless them ! — and they proudly take their chances — nay, 
they demand the chances of a war that spares neither 
the aged nor the weak, neither mother nor cradled babe, 
nor the hound at the door, nor the cattle, nor any living 
thing in this red fury of destruction! ” 

He had risen, eyes glittering, face hardened into 
stone. “ Go to your betrothed and say good-by. You 
do not know her yet, I think.” 

“ She is Canadienne,” I said. 

“ She is what the man she loves is — if she honors 
him. His cause is hers, his country hers, his God is 
her God 1 ” 

“ Her heart is with neither side ” 

“ Her heart is with you I Shame to doubt her — if 
I read her eyes ! Read them, Carus 1 ” 

I wheeled, speechless; Elsin Grey stood before me, 
deadly pale. 

After a moment she moved forward, laying her hand 
on my shoulder and facing Colonel Willett with a smile. 
All color had fled from her face, but neither lip nor 
voice quivered as she spoke : 

“ I think you do understand, sir. We Canadiennes 

280 


THE TEST 


yield nothing in devotion to the women of New York. 
Where we love, we honor. What matters it where the 
alarm sounds.? We understand our lovers; we can give 
them to the cause of freedom as well here in Tryon 
County as on the plains of Abraham — can we not, my 
betrothed .? ” she said, looking into my face ; but her 
smile was heart-breaking. 

“ Child, child,” said Willett, taking her free hand 
in both of his, “ you speak a silent language with your 
eyes that no man can fail to understand.” 

“ I failed,” I said bitterly, as Willett kissed her 
hand, placed it in mine, and, turning, entered the open 
door. 

“ And what blame. Cams .? ” she whispered. “ What 
have I been to you but a symbol of unbridled selfish- 
ness, asking all, giving nothing? How could you know 
I loved you so dearly that I could stand aside to let 
you pass ? First I loved you selfishly, shamelessly ; then 
I begged your guilty love, oflPering mine in the passion 
of my ignorance and bewilderment.” 

Her arm fell from my shoulder and nestled in mine, 
and we turned away together under the brilliant autumn 
glory of the trees. 

“ That storm that tore me — ah. Cams — I had been 
wrecked without your strong arm to bear me up ! ” 

“ It was you who bore me up, Elsin. How can I 
leave you now ! ” 

“ Why, Carus, our honor is involved.” 

“ Our honor ! ” 

“ Yes, dear, ours.” 

“ You — you bid me go, Elsin? ” 

281 


THE RECKONING 


“ If I bid you stay, what would avail except to prove 
me faithless to you? How could I truly love you and 
counsel dishonor? ” 

White as a flower, the fixed smile never left her lips, 
nor did her steady pace beside me falter, or knee tremble, 
or a finger quiver of the little hand that lay within my 
own. 

And then we fell silent, walking to and fro under 
the painted maple-trees in Johnstown streets, seeing no 
one, heeding no one, until the bell at the fort struck 
the hour. It meant the end. 

We kissed each other once. I could not speak. My 
horse, led by Jack Mount, appeared from the tavern 
stables ; and we walked back to the inn together. 

Once more I took her in my arms ; then she 
gently drew away and entered the open door, hands 
outstretched as though blinded, feeling her way — that 
was the last I saw of her, feeling her dark way alone 
into the house. 

Senses swimming, dumb, deafened by the raging, 
beating pulses hammering in my brain, I reeled at a 
gallop into the sunny street, north, then west, then 
north once more, tearing out into the Butlersbury road. 
A gate halted me; I dismounted and dragged it open, 
then to horse again, then another gate, then on again, 
hailed and halted by riflemen at the cross-roads, which 
necessitated the summoning of my wits at last before 
they would let me go. 

Now riding through the grassy cart-road, my shoul- 
ders swept by the fringing willows, I came at length 
to the Danascara, shining in the sunlight, and followed 
^ 8 ^ 


THE TEST 


its banks — the same banks from which so often in hap- 
pier days I had fished. At times I traveled the Tribes 
Hill road, at times used shorter cuts, knowing every 
forest-trail as I did, and presently entered the wood- 
road that leads from Caughnawaga church to Johns- 
town. I was in Butlersbury ; there was the slope, there 
the Tribes Hill trail, there the stony road leading to 
that accursed house from which the Butlers, father and 
son, some five years since, had gone forth to eternal 
infamy. 

And now, set in a circle of cleared land and ringed 
by the ancient forests of the north, I saw the gray, 
weather-beaten walls of the house. The lawns were over- 
grown ; the great well-sweep shattered ; the locust-trees 
covered with grapevines — the cherry- and apple-trees to 
the south broken and neglected. Weeds smothered the 
flower-gardens, where here and there a dull-red poppy 
peered at m.e through withering tangles ; lilac and locust 
had already shed foliage too early blighted, but the huge 
and forbidding maples were all aflame in their blood- 
red autumn robes. Here the year had already begun 
to die; in the clear air a faint whiff of decay came from 
the rotting heaps of leaves — decay, ruin, and the taint 
of death; and, in the sad autumn stillness, something 
ominous, something secret and sly — something of malice. 

Seeing no sign of my Oneida, I walked my horse 
across the lawn and up to the desolate row of windows. 
The shutters had been ripped off their hinges ; all within 
was bare and dark; dimly I made out the shadowy 
walls of a hallway which divided the house into halves. 
By the light which filtered through the soiled windows 
g83 


THE RECKONING 


I examined room after room from the outside, then, 
noiselessly, tried the door, but found it bolted from 
within as well as locked from without. Either the But- 
lers or the commissioners of sequestration must have 
crawled through a window to do this. I prowled on, 
looking for the window they had used as exit, examin- 
ing the old house with a fascinated repugnance. The 
clapboards were a foot wide, evidently fashioned with 
care and beaded on the edges. The outside doors all 
opened outward; and I noted, with a shudder of con- 
tempt, the “ witch’s half-moon,” or lunette, in the bot- 
tom. of each door, which betrays the cowardly super- 
stition of the man who lived there. Such cat-holes 
are fashioned for haunted houses; the specter is be- 
lieved to crawl out through these openings, and then 
to be kept out with a tarred rag stuffed into the 
hole — ghosts being unable to endure tar. Faugh! If 
specters walk, the accursed house must be alive with 
them — ghosts of the victims of old John Butler, wraiths 
dripping red from Cherry Valley — children with' throats 
cut; women with bleeding heads and butchered bodies, 
stabbed through and through — and perhaps the awful 
specter of Lieutenant Boyd, with eyes and nails plucked 
out, and tongue cut off, bound to the stake and slowly 
roasting to death, while Walter Butler watched the 
agony curiously, interested and surprised to see a dis- 
emboweled man live so long! 

Oh, yes, there might well be phantoms in this 
ghastly mansion; but they had nothing to do with me; 
only the absent master of the house was any concern of 
mine; and, finding at last the window I sought for, I 
£84 


THE TEST 


shoved it open and climbed to the sill, landing upon the 
floor inside, my moccasined feet making no more sound 
than the padded toes of a tree-cat. 

Then to prowl and mouse, stepping cautiously, 
stooping warily to examine dusty scraps lying on the 
bare boards — a dirty newspaper, an old shoe with buckle 
missing, a broken pewter spoon — all the sordid trifles 
that accent desolation. Once or twice I thought to make 
out moccasin tracks in the dust, as though some furtive 
prowler had anticipated me here, but the light filtering 
through the crusted panes was meager and uncertain, 
and, after all, it mattered nothing to me. 

The house was divided by a hallway ; there were two 
rooms on either side, all bare and empty save for scraps 
here and there, and in one room the collapsed and dusty 
carcass of a rat. On the walls there was nothing except 
a nail driven into the clay, which was crumbling be- 
tween the facing of whitewashed brick. From the heavy 
oaken timbers of the wooden ceilings hung smutty ban- 
ners of ancient cobwebs, stirring above me as I moved. 
It was the very abomination of sinister desolation. 

Some vague idea of finding something that might 
aid me — some scrap of evidence I might chance on to 
kindle hope with — some neglected trifle to damn him and 
proclaim this monstrous marriage void — it was this in- 
stinct that led me into a house abhorred. Nothing I 
found, save, on one foul window-pane, names, diamond- 
cut, scrawled again and again : “ Lyn,” and “ Cherry- 
Maid,” repeated a score of times. 

And long I lingered, pondering who had written it, 
and what it might mean, and who was “ Lyn.” As for 
20 285 


THE RECKONING 


“ Cherry-Maid,” the name was used in the False Faces 
rites ; and at that terrific orgy held on the Kenny etto 
before the battle of Oriskany, where the first split came 
in the walls of the Long House, and where that hag- 
sorceress, Catrine Montour, had failed to pledge the 
Oneidas to the war-post, the Cherry-Maid had taken 
part. Indeed, some said that she was a daughter of 
the Huron witch ; but Jack Mount, who saw the rite, 
swore that the Cherry-Maid was but a beautiful child, 
painted from brow to ankle 

Suddenly I thought of the hag’s daughter as Caro- 
lyn. Carolyn ? Lyn ! By heaven, the Cherry-Maid 
was Carolyn Montour, mistress of Walter Butler! Here 
in bygone days she had scrawled her name — here her 
title. And Walter Butler had been present at that 
frantic debauch where the False Faces cringed to their 
prophetess, Magdalen Brant. Perhaps it was there that 
this man had met his match in the lithe young animal 
whelped by the Toad-Woman — this slim, lawless, de- 
praved child, who had led the False Faces in their grue- 
some rites and sacrifice! 

I stared at the diamond scrawl ; and before my eyes 
I seemed to see the three fires burning, the clattering 
rows of wooden masks, the white blankets of the sachems, 
the tawny, naked form of the Cherry-Maid, seated be- 
tween samphire and hazel, her pointed fingers on her 
hips, her heavy hair veiling a laughing face, over which 
the infernal fire shadow played. 

Ah, it was well! Beast linked to beast — what need 
of priest in the fierce mating of such creatures of the 
dusk.f’ He was hers, and she his by all laws of nature, 
5^86 


THE TEST 


and in the eternal fitness of things vast and savage. 
They must live and breed in the half-light of forests; 
they must perish as the sun follows the falling trees, 
creeping ever inexorably westward. 

Somberly brooding, I turned and descended into the 
cellar. There was little light here, and I cared not to 
strike flint. Groping about I touched with my foot 
remains of bottles of earthenware, then made my way 
to the door again and began to ascend. 

The stairway seemed steeper and more tortuous to 
me. As I climbed I became uneasy at its length. Then, 
in a second, it flashed on me that I had blundered upon 
a secret stairway^ leading upward from the cellar. At 
this same instant my head brushed the ceiling; I gave 
a gentle push, and a trap-door lifted, admitting me to 
another flight of stairs, up which I warily felt my way. 
This must end in another trap-door on the second floor 
— I understood that — and began to reach upward, feel- 
ing about blindly until my hands fell on a bolt. This 
I drew; it was not rusty, and did not creak, and, as 
I slid it back, to my astonishment my fingers grew wet 
and greasy. The bolt had been recently oiled! 

Now all alert as a gray wolf sniffing a strange 
trail that cuts his own, I warily lifted the trap to a 
finger’s breadth. The crack of light dazzled me ; grad- 
ually my blurred sight grew clearer ; I saw a low, oblong 
window under the eaves of the steep, pointed roof ; and, 
through it, the sunlight falling on the bare floor of a 
room all littered with papers, torn letters, and tape- 


^ Evidences of this stairway still exist in the ancient house of 
Walter Butler. 


m 


THE RECKONING 


bound documents of every description. Could these be 
the Butler papers.? I had heard that all documents 
had been seized by the commissioners after the father 
and son had fled. But the honorable commissioners of 
sequestration had evidently never suspected this stair- 
way. 

In spite of myself I started! How had I, then, 
entered it.? Somebody must have mounted it before 
me, leaving the secret door open in the cellar, and I, 
groping about, had chanced upon it. But whoever left 
it open must have been acquainted with the house — an 
intimate here, if not one of the family I 

When had this unknown entered.? Was any one 
here now? At the thought my skin roughened as a dog 
bristles. Was I alone in this house.? 

Listening, motionless, nostrils dilated, every sense 
concentrated on that narrow crack of light, I crouched 
there. Then, very gradually, I raised the trap, higher, 
higher, laying it back against the upright of white oak. 

I was in a tiny room — a closet, lighted by a slit of a 
window. Everywhere around me in the dust were small 
moccasin prints, pointing in every direction. I could 
see no door in the wooden walls of the closet, but I 
stepped out of the stair-well and leaned over, examining 
the moccasin tracks, tracing them, until I found a spot 
where they led straight up to the wall; and there were 
no returning tracks to be seen. A chill crept over me ; 
only a specter could pass through a solid wall. The 
next moment I had bent, ear flattened to the wooden 
wainscot. There was something moving in the next 
room! 


288 


1 


CHAPXER XII 


THENDARA 

Motionless, intent, holding my breath, I listened 
at the paneled wall. Through the wainscot I could 
hear the low rustling of paper; and I seemed to sense 
some heavier movement within, though the solid floor did 
not creak, nor a window quiver, nor a footfall sound. 

And now my eyes began traveling cautiously over 
the paneled wall, against which I had laid my ear. No 
crack or seam indicated a hidden door, yet I knew there 
must be one, and gently pressed the wainscot with my 
shoulder. It gave, almost imperceptibly ; I pressed 
again, and the hidden door opened a hair’s breadth, a 
finger’s breadth, an inch, widening, widening noise- 
lessly; and I bent forward and peered into another 
closet like the one I stood in, also lighted by a loop for 
rifle-fire. As my head advanced, first a corner of tKe 
floor littered with papers came into my range of vision, 
then an angle of the wall, then a shadowy something 
which I could not at first make out — and I opened the 
door a little wider — scarcely an inch — ^holding it there. 

The shadowy something moved; it was a human 
foot; and the next instant my eyes fell on a figure, 
partly in shade, partly in the light from the loophole 


THE RECKONING 

— an Indian, kneeling, absorbed in deciphering a docu- 
ment held flat on the bare floor. 

Astounded, almost incredulous, I glared at the 
vision. Gradually the shock of the surprise subsided; 
details took shape under my wondering eyes — the slim 
legs, doubled under, clothed with fringed and beaded 
leggings to the hips, the gol*geously embroidered spor- 
ran, moccasins, and clout, the smooth, naked back, gleam- 
ing like palest amber under curtains of stiffly strung 
scarlet-and-gold traders’ wampum — traders’ wampum? 
What did that mean? And what did those heavy, 
double masses of hair indicate — those soft, twisted ropes 
of glossy hair, braided half-way with crimson silk shot 
with silver, then hanging a cloudy shock of black to the 
belted waist? 

Here was no Iroquois youth — no adolescent of the 
Long House attired for any rite I ever heard of. The 
hip-leggings were of magnificent Algonquin work ; the 
quill-set, sinew-embroidered moccasins, too. That 
stringy, iridescent veil of rose, scarlet, and gold wam- 
pum on the naked body was de fantasie; the belt and 
knife-sheath pure Huron. As for the gipsy-like ar- 
rangement of the hair, no Iroquois boy ever wore it that 
way; it hinted of the gens de 'prairie. What on earth 
did it mean? There was no paint on limb or body to 
guide me. Never had I seen such a being so dressed for 
any rite or any practise in North America! Oh, if 
Little Otter were only here ! I stole a glance out of the 
loop, but saw nothing save the pale sunshine on the 
weeds. If the Oneida had arrived, he had surely already 
found my horse tied in the lilac thicket, and surely he 
S90 


THENDARA 


would follow me where the weeds showed him I had 
passed. He might wait for a while; but if I emerged 
not from the house I knew he would be after me, smell- 
ing along like a wolfhound until he had tracked me to 
a standstill. Should I wait for him.f^ I looked at the 
kneeling figure. So absorbed was the strange young 
Indian in the document on the floor that I strained my 
eyes to make out its script, but could not decipher even 
the corner of the paper exposed to my view. Then it 
occurred to me that it was a strange thing for an Indian 
to read. Scarce one among the Iroquois, save Brant 
and the few who had been to Dr. Wheelock’s school, 
knew A from Zed, or could more than scrawl their clan- 
mark to a birchen letter. 

Suspicious lest, after all, I had to do with a blue- 
eyed Indian or painted Tory, I examined the uncon- 
scious reader thoroughly. And, after a little while, a 
strange apprehension settled into absolute conviction as 
I looked. So certain was I that every gathered muscle 
relaxed ; I drew a deep, noiseless breath of relief, smiling 
to myself, and stepped coolly forward, letting the secret 
door swing to behind me with a deadened thud. 

Like a startled tree-cat the figure sprang to its feet, 
whirling to confront me. And I laughed again, for I 
was looking into the dark, dilated eyes of a young girl. 

“ Have no fear,” I began quietly ; and the next 
instant the words were driven into my throat, for she 
was on me in one bound, hunting-knife glittering. 

Round the walls we reeled, staggering, wrestling, 
clinched like infuriated wolverines. I had her wrist 
in my grip, squeezing it, and the bright, sparkling 
291 


THE RECKONING 

‘ ■■■■ — 

knife soon clattered to the boards, but she suddenly set 
her crooked knee inside mine and tripped me headlong, 
hurling us both sideways to the floor, where we rolled, 
desperately locked, she twisting and reaching for the 
knife again and again, until I kicked it behind me and 
staggered to my feet, dragging her with me in all her 
fury. But her maddened strength, her sinuous twist- 
ing, her courage, so astonished me that again and again 
she sent me reeling almost to my knees, taxing my agil- 
ity and my every muscle to keep her from tripping me 
flat and recovering her knife. At length she began to 
sway; her dark, deflant eyes narrowed to two flaming 
slits ; her distorted mouth weakened into sullen lines, 
through which I caught the flash of locked teeth crush- 
ing back the broken, panting breath. I held her like a 
vise; she could no longer move. And when at last she 
knew it, her rigid features, convulsed with rage, relaxed 
into a blank, smooth mask of living amber. 

For a moment I held her, feeling her whole body 
falling loose-limbed and limp — held her until her sob- 
bing breath grew quieter and more regular. Then I 
released her; she reeled, steadying herself against the 
wall with one hand; and, stepping back, I sank one 
knee, and whipped the knife from the floor. 

That she now looked for death at my hands was 
perfectly evident, I being dressed as a forest-runner 
who knows no sex when murder is afoot. I saw^ the 
flushed face pale slightly ; the lip curl contemptuously. 
Proudly she lifted her head, haughtily faced me. 

“ Dog of bastard nation ! ” she panted ; “ look me 
between the eyes and strike ! ” 

292 


THENDAEA 


“ Little sister,” I answered gravely, using the soft 
Oneida idiom, “ let there be peace between us.” 

A flash of wonder lit her dark eyes. And I said 
again, smiling : “ O Heart-divided-into-two-hearts, te- 
ha-eho-eh, you are like him whom we name, after ‘ The 
Two Voices ’ — we of the 'Wolf. Therefore is there 
peace and love ’twixt thee and me.” 

The wonder in her eyes deepened; her whole body 
quivered. 

“ Who are you with a white skin who speak like a 
crested sachem ” she faltered. 

“ Tat-sheh-teh, little sister. I bear the quiver, but 
my war-arrows are broken.” 

“ Oneida ! ” she exclaimed softly, clasping her hands 
between her breasts. 

I stepped closer, holding out my arms; slowly she 
laid her hands in mine, looking fearlessly up into my 
face. I turned her palms upward and placed the 
naked knife across them ; she bent her head, then 
straightened up, looking me full in the eyes. 

Still smiling, I laid both my hands on the collar of 
my hunting-shirt, baring throat and chest ; and, as the 
full significance of the tiny tattoo dawned upon her, 
she shivered. 

“ Tharon ! ” she stammered. “ Thou ! What have 
I done ! ” And, shuddering, cast the knife at my feet 
as though it had been the snake that rattles. 

“ Little sister ” 

“ Oh, no ! no ! What have I done ! What have I 
dared ! I have raised my hand against Him whom you 
have talked with face to face ” 

293 


THE RECKONING 


“ Only Tharon has done that,” I said gently. “ I 
but wear his sign. Peace, Woman of the Morning. 
There is no injury where there is no intent. We are 
not yet ‘ at the Forest's Edge.' " 

Slowly the color returned to lip and cheek, her fas- 
cinated eyes roamed from my face to the tattooed wolf 
and mark of Tharon crossing it. And after a little she 
smiled faintly at my smile, as I said: 

“ I have drawn the fangs of the Wolf ; fear no more, 
Daughter of the Sun.” 

“ I— I fear no more,” she breathed. 

“ Shall an ensign of the Oneida cherish wrath ? ” I 
asked. “ He who bears a quiver h^s forgotten. See, 
child ; it is as it was from the beginning. Hiro.” 

I calmly seated myself on the floor, knees gathered 
in my clasped hands ; and she settled down opposite me, 
awaiting in instinctive silence my next words. 

“ Why does my sister wear the dress of an adoles- 
cent, mocking the False Faces, when the three fires are 
not yet kindled? ” I asked. 

“ I hold the fire-right,” she said quickly. “ Ask 
those who wear the mask where cherries grow. O 
sachem, those cherries were ripe ere I was ! ” 

I thought a moment, then fixed my eager eyes on her. 

“ Only the Cherry-Maid of Adriutha has that right,” 
I said. My heart, beating furiously, shook my voice, 
for I knew now who she was. 

“ I am Cherry-Maid to the three fires,” she said ; 
“ in bud at Adriutha, in blossom at Carenay, in fruit at 
Danascara.” 


“ Your name? ” 


294 * 


THENDARA 


“ Lyn Montour.” 

I almost leaped from the floor in my excitement; yet 
the engrafted Oneida instinct of a sachem chained me 
motionless. “ You are the wife of Walter Butler,” I 
said deliberately, in English. 

A wave of crimson stained her face and shoulders. 
Suddenly she covered her face with her hands. 

“ Little sister,” I said gently, “ is it not the truth.? 
Does a Quiver-bearer lie, O Blossom of Carenay.? ” 

Her hands fell away; she raised her head, the tears 
shining on her heavy lashes : “ It is the truth.” 

“His wife.?” I repeated slowly. 

“ His wife, 0 Bearer of Arrows ! He took me at 
the False Faces’ feast, and the Iroquois saw. Yet the 
cherries were still green at Danascara. Twice the Len- 
ape covered their faces; twice ‘The Two Voices’ unveiled 
his face. So it was done there on the Kennyetto.” She 
leaned swiftly toward me: “ Twice he denied me at Ni- 
agara. Yet once, when our love was new — when I still 
loved him — he acknowledged me here in this very house, 
in the presence of a County Magistrate, Sir John John- 
son. I am his wife, I, Lyn Montour ! I have never lied 
to woman or man, O my elder brother ! ” 

“ And that is why you have come back .? ” 

“ Yes ; to search — for something to help me — some 
record — God knows ! — I have searched and searched — ” 
She stretched out her bare arms and gazed hopelessly 
around the paper-littered floor. 

“ Will not Sir John uphold you with his testi- 
mony? ” I asked. 

“ He? No! He also denies it. What ean a woman 
295 


THE RECKONING 


expect of a man who has broken parole ? ” she added, in 
contempt. 

I leaned toward her, speaking slowly, and with 
deadly emphasis: 

“ Dare Walter Butler deny what the Iroquois Na- 
tion may attest.? ” 

“ He dare,” she said, burning eyes on mine. “ I 
am more Algonquin than Huron, and more than nine- 
tenths white. What is it to the Iroquois that this man 
puts me away.? It was the Mohican and Lenape who 
veiled their faces, not the Iroquois. What is it to white 
men that he took me and has now put me away .? What 
is it to them that he now takes another .? ” 

“Another.? Whom.?” My lips scarcely formed 
the question. 

“ I do not know her name. When he returned from 
the horrors of Cherry Valley Sir Frederick Haldimand 
refused to see him. Yet he managed to make love to 
Sir Frederick’s kinswoman — a child — as I was when 
he took me ” 

She closed her eyes. I saw the lashes all wet again, 
but her voice did not tremble: “ He is at Niagara with 
his Rangers — or was. And — when I came to him he 
laughed at me, bidding me seek a new lover at the 
fort ” 

Her voice strangled. Twisting her fingers, she sat 
there, eyes closed, dumb, miserable. At last she gasped 
out : “ O Quiver-bearer, with a w hite voice and a skin 
scarce whiter than my own, though your nation be sun- 
dered from the Long House, though I be an outcast of 
clans and nations, speak to me kindly, for my sadness 
296 


THENDARA 


is bitter, and the ghost of my dead honor confronts me 
in every forest-trail!” She stretched out her arms 
piteously : 

“ Teach me, brother ; instruct me ; heal my bruised 
heart of hate for this young man who was my undoing 
— cleanse my fierce, desirous heart. I love him no longer ; 
I — I dare not hate him lest I slay him ere he rights my 
wrongs. My sorrow is heavier than I can bear — and 
I am young, O sachem — not yet eighteen — until the 
snow flies.” 

She laid her face in her hands once more; through 
her slim fingers the bright tears fell slowly. 

“ Are you Christian, little sister.? ” I asked, won- 
dering. 

“ I do not know. They say so. A brave Jesuit 
converted me ere I was unstrapped from the cradle- 
board — ere I could lisp or toddle. God knows. My 
own brother died in war-paint; my grandmother was 
French Margaret, my mother — if she be my mother — 
is the Huron witch of Wyoming ; some call her Catrine, 
some Esther. Yet I was chaste — till he took me — 
chaste as an Iroquois maid. Thus has he wrought with 
me. Teach me to forgive him I ” 

And this the child of Catrine Montour.? This that 
bestial creature they described to me as some slim, fierce 
temptress of the forests.? 

“ Listen,” I said gently ; “ if you are wedded by 
a magistrate, you are his wife; yet if that magistrate 
falsely witnesses against you, you can not prove it. 
I would give all I have to prove your marriage. Do you 
understand ? ” 


^97 


THE RECKONING 


She looked at me, uncomprehending. 

“ The woman I love is the woman he now claims as 
wife,” I said calmly. Then, in that strange place, alone 
there together in the dim light, she lying full length 
on the floor, her hands clasped on my knees, told me all. 
And there, together, we took counsel how to bring this 
man to judgment — not the Almighty’s ultimate punish- 
ment, not even that stem retribution which an outraged 
world might exact, but a merciful penance — the public 
confession of the tie that bound him to this young girl. 
For, among the Iroquois, an unchaste woman is so rare 
that when a maiden commits the fault she is like a leper 
until death releases her from her awful isolation. 

Together, too, we searched the littered papers on the 
floor, piece by piece, bit by bit, but all in vain. And 
while kneeling there I heard a stealthy step behind me, 
and looked back over my shoulder, to see the Oneida, 
Little Otter, peering in at us, eyeballs fairly starting 
from his painted face. Lyn Montour eyed him silently, 
and without expression, but I laughed to see how surely 
he had followed me as I had expected; and motioned him 
away to await my coming. 

It was, I should judge, nearly five o’clock when we 
descended by the open stairway to the ground floor. I 
held the window^ wide; she placed her hands on the sill 
and leaped lightly to the grass. I followed. Presently 
the lilac thicket parted and the tall Oneida appeared, 
leading my horse. One keen, cunning glance he gave 
at the girl, then, impassive, stood bolt upright beside 
my horse. He was superb, stripped naked to clout and 
moccasin, head shaved, body oiled and most elaborately 
298 


THENDARA 


painted ; and on his broad breast glimmered the Wolf 
lined in sappbire-blue. When the long roll of the dead 
thundered through the council-house, his name was the 
fourth to be called — Shononses. And never Tras chief 
of the Oneida nation more worthy to lift the antlers that 
no grave must ever cover while the Long House endures. 

“ Has my brother learned news of the gathering in 
the north? ” I asked, studying the painted symbols on 
his face and body. 

“ The council sits at dawn,” he replied quietly. 

“ At dawn ! ” I exclaimed. “ Why, we have no time, 
then ” 

“ There is time, brother. There is always time to 
die.” 

“ To — die ! ” I looked at him, startled. Did he, 
then, expect no mercy at the council? He raised his 
eyes to me, smiling. There was nothing of fear, noth- 
ing of boastfulness, even, in attitude or glance. His 
dignity appalled me, for I knew what it meant. And, 
suddenly, the full significance of his paint flashed upon 
me. 

“ You think there is no chance for us? ” I repeated. 

“ None, brother.” 

“ And yet you go ? ” 

“ And you, brother? ” 

“ I am ordered ; I am pledged to take such chances. 
But you need not go. Little Otter. See, I free you now. 
Leave me, brother. I desire it.” 

“ Shononses will stay,” he said impassively. “ Let 
the Long House learn how the Oneidas die.” 

I shuddered and looked again at his paint. It was 

S99 


THE RECKONING 


inevitable; no orders, no commands, no argument coidd 
now move him. He understood that he was about to 
die, and he had prepared himself. All I could hope 
for was that he had mistaken the temper of the council; 
that the insolence of a revolted nation daring to present 
a sachem at the Federal Council might be overlooked — 
might be condoned, even applauded by those who cher- 
ished in their dark hearts, locked, the splendid humanity 
of the ancient traditions. But there was no knowing, 
no prophesying what action a house divided might 
take, what attitude a people maddened by dissensions, 
wrought to frenzy by fraternal conflict, might assume. 
God knows the white man’s strife was barbarous enough, 
brother murdering brother beneath the natal roof. 
What, then, might be looked for from the fierce, proud 
people whose Confederacy was steadily crumbling be- 
neath our touch; whose crops and forests and villages 
had gone roaring up into flames as the vengeance of 
Sullivan, with his Rangers, his Continentals, and his 
Oneidas, passed over their lands in fire! 

“ Where sits the council.^ ” I asked soberly. 

“ At the Dead-Water.” 

It was an all-night journey by the Fish House- 
trails, for we dared not strike the road, with Sir John’s 
white demons outlying from the confluence to French- 
man’s creek. 

I looked at my horse. Little Otter had strapped 
ammunition and provisions to the saddle, leaving room 
for a rider. I turned to Lyn Montour; she laid her 
hands on my shoulders, and I swung her up astride the 
saddle. 


300 


THENDARA 


“ Now,” I said briefly ; and we filed away into the 
north, the Oneida leading at a slow trot. 

I shall never forget the gloom, the bitter misery of 
that dark trail where specters ever stared at me as I 
journeyed, where ghosts arose in every trail — pale 
wraiths of her I loved, calling me back to love again. 
And “ Lost, lost, lost ! ” wept the little brooks we crossed, 
all sobbing, whispering her name. 

What an end of all — to die now, leaving life’s work 
unfinished, life’s desire unsatisfied — all that I loved un- 
protected and alone on earth. What an end to it all — 
and I had done nothing for the cause, nothing except the 
furtive, obscure wmrk which others shrank from! And 
now', skulking to certain death, was denied me even the 
poor solace of an honored memory. Here in this shaggy 
desolation no ray of glory might penetrate to gild my 
last hour wdth a hero’s halo; contempt must be my re- 
ward if I failed. I must die amid the scornful laugh- 
ter of Iroquois women, the shrill taunts of children, the 
jeers of renegade white men, who pay a thief more 
honor at the cross-roads gallows than they pay a con- 
victed spy. Why, I might not even hope for the stern 
and dignified justice that the Oneida awaited — an iron 
justice that respected the victim it destroyed; for he 
came openly as a sachem of a disobedient nation in re- 
volt, daring to justify his nation and his clan. But I 
w'as to act if not to speak a lie ; I was to present myself 
as a sleek non-partizan, symbolizing only a nobility of 
the great Wolf clan. And if any man accused me as 
a spy, and if suspicion became conviction, the horrors 
of my degradation wmuld be inconceivable. Yet, plying 
21 SOI 


THE RECKONING 


once more my abhorred trade, I could only obey, hope 
against hope, and strive to play the man to the end, 
knowing what failure meant, knowing, too, what my 
reward for success might be — a low-voiced “ Thank 
you ” in secret, a grasp of the hands behind locked 
doors — a sum of money pressed on me slyly — that hurt 
most of all — to put it away with a smile, and keep my 
temper. Good God ! Does a Renault serve his country 
for money! Why, why, can they not understand, and 
spare me that ! — the wages of the wretched trade ! 

Darkness had long since infolded us ; we had slack- 
ened to a walk, moving forward between impervious 
walls of blackness. And always on the curtain of the 
inky shadow I saw Elsin’s pallid face gazing upon me, 
until the vision grew so real that I could have* cried 
out in my anguish, reeling forward, on, ever on, through 
a blackness thick as the very shadows of the pit that 
hides lost souls ! 

At midnight we halted for an hour. The Oneida 
ate calmly; Lyn Montour tasted the parched corn, and 
drank at an unseen spring that bubbled a drear lament 
amid the rocks. Then we descended into the Drowned 
Lands, feeling our spongy trail between osier, alder, 
and willow. Once, very far away, I saw a light, pale 
as a star, low shining on the marsh. It was the Fish 
House, and we were near our journey’s end — perhaps 
the end of all journeys, save that last swift trail upward 
among those thousand stars I 

It was near to dawn when we came out upon the 
marsh; and above, I heard the whir and whimpering 
rush of wild ducks passing, the w^aking call of birds, 
302 


THENDARA 


twittering all around us in the darkness ; the low under- 
tone of the black water flowing to the Sacandaga. 

Over the quaking marsh we passed, keeping the 
trodden trail, now wading, now ankle-deep in cranberry, 
now up to our knees in moss, now lost in the high marsh- 
grass, on, on, through birch hummocks, willows, stunted 
hemlocks and tamaracks, then on firm ground once more, 
with the oak-mast under foot, and the white dawn sil- 
vering the east, and my horse breathing steam as he 
toiled on. 

Suddenly I was aware of a dark figure moving 
through the marsh, parallel, and close to me. The 
Oneida stopped, stared, then drew his blanket around 
him and sat down at the foot of a great oak. 

We had arrived at Thendara! Now, all around us 
in the dim glade, tall forms moved — spectral shapes of 
shadowy substance that drifted hither and thither, pass- 
ing, repassing, melting into the gloom around, until I 
could scarce tell them from the shreds of marsh fog 
that rose and floated through the trees around us. 

Slowly the heavens turned to palest gold, then to 
saflTron. All about us shadowy throngs arose to face 
the rising sun. A moment of intense stillness, then a 
far, faint cry, “Koue!” And the glittering edge of 
the sun appeared above the wooded heights. Blinding 
level rays fell on the painted faces of the sachems of 
the Long House, advancing to the forest’s edge; the 
Oneida strode forward, head erect, and I, with a sign 
to the girl at my side, followed. 

As we walked through the long, dead grass, I, 
watching sidewise, noted the absence of the Senecas. 
303 


THE RECKONING 


Was it for them the condolence? Suddenly it struck 
me that to our side of the circle belonged the duty of 
the first rites. Who would speak? Not the Oneidas, 
for there was none, except Little Otter and myself. 
Who then? The Cayugas? 

I shot a side glance among the slowly moving forms. 
Ah ! that was it ! A Cayuga sachem led the march. 

The circle was already forming. I saw the Sen- 
ecas now; I saw all the sachems seating themselves in a 
cleared space where a birch fire smoldered, sweetening 
the keen morning air with its writhing, aromatic smoke ; 
I saw the Oneida cross proudly to his place on our side ; 
and I seated myself beside him, raising my eyes to the 
towering figure of Tahtootahoo, the chief sachem and 
ensign of the great Bear Clan of the Onondaga nation, 
who stood beside the Cayuga spokesman in whispered 
conference. 

To and fro strode th® Cayuga, heavy head bent; to 
and fro, pacing the circle like a stupefied panther. 
Once his luminous eyes gleamed on mine, shifted blankly 
to the Oneida, and thence along the motionless circle 
of painted faces. Mohawk, Seneca, Onondaga were 
there, forming half the circle; Oneida, Cayuga, and 
Tuscarora welded it to a ring. I glanced fearfully 
from ensign to ensign, but saw no Delaware present; 
and my heart leaped with hope. Walter Butler had 
lied to me ; the Lenni-Lenape had never sat at this rite ; 
his mongrel clan had no voice here. He had lied. 

The pipe had been lighted and was passing in grave 
silence. I received it from a Tuscarora, used it, and 
handed it to the Oneida, watching the chief sachem of 
304 


THENDARA 


the Senecas as he arose to deliver his brief address of 
welcome. He spoke in the Seneca dialect, and so low 
that I could understand him only with greatest diffi- 
culty, learning nothing except that a Seneca Bear was 
to be raised up to replace a dead chief slain at Sharon. 

Then a very old sachem arose and made a sign which 
was the symbol of travel. We touched hands and waited, 
understanding the form prescribed. Alas, the mourn- 
ing Senecas had no longer a town to invite us to; the 
rite must be concluded where we sat ; we must be content 
with the sky for the roof which had fallen in on the 
Long House, the tall oaks for the lodge-poles, the east 
and west for the doors broken down by the invasion. 

Solemnly the names of the score and three legendary 
towns were recited, first those of the Wolf, next of the 
Tortoise, then of the Bear; and I saw my Wolf-brethren 
of the four classes of the Mohawks and Cayugas staring 
at me as I rose when they did and seated myself at the 
calling of my towns. And, by heaven ! I noted, too, 
that the Tuscaroras of the Grey Wolf and the Yellow 
Wolf knew their places, and rose only after we were 
seated. Except for the Onondaga Tortoise, a cleft clan 
awaits the pleasure of its betters. Even a Delaware 
should know that much, but Walter Butler was ever a 
liar, for it is not true that the Anowara or Tortoise 
is the noble clan, nor yet the Ocquari. It is the Wolf, 
the Oquacho Clan; and the chiefs of the Wolf come first 
of all! 

Suddenly the sonorous voice of the Seneca broke the 
silence, pronouncing the opening words of the most 
sacred rite of the Iroquois people : 

305 


THE RECKONING 


“ Now to-day I have been greatly startled by your 
voice coming through the forest to this opening ” 

The deep, solemn tones of the ancient chant fell on 
the silence like the notes of a sad bell. It was, then, 
to be a double rite. Which nation among the younger 
brothers mourned a chief I looked at the Oneida be- 
side me; his proud smile softened. Then I understood. 
Good God! They were mourning him, him, as though 
he were already dead! 

The Seneca’s voice was sounding in my ears : “ Now, 
therefore, you who are our friends of the W olf Clan — ” 
I scarcely heard him. Presently the “ Salute ” rolled 
forth from the council; they were intoning the “ Ka- 
renna.” 

I laid my hand on the Oneida’s wrist; his pulse was 
calm, nor did it quicken by a beat as the long roll of the 
dead was called: 

“ Continue to listen. 

Thou who wert ruler, 

Hiawatha! 

Continue to listen, 

Thou who wert ruler: 

That was the roll of you — 

You who began it — 

You who completed 
The Great League ! — 

Continue to listen. 

Thou who wert ruler: 

That was the roll of you ” 

The deep cadence of the chanting grew to a thun- 
derous sound ; name after name of the ancient dead was 
306 


THENDARA 


called, and the thrilling response swelled, culminating 
in a hollow shout. Then a pause, and the solemn tones 
of a single voice intoning the final words of gloom. 

For ten full minutes there was not a sound except 
the faint snapping of the smoking birch twigs. Then 
up rose the chief sachem of the Cayugas, cast aside his 
blanket, faced the circle, dark, lean arm outstretched; 
and from his lips flowed the beautiful opening words 
of the Younger Nations : 

“ Fo o-nen o-nen wen-ni-teh onen ” 

“ Nom — now this day — now I come to your door 
where you mourn. ... I will enter your door and 
come before the ashes and mourn with you there. And 
these words will I speak to comfort you! ” 

The music of the voice thrilled me: 

“ To the warriors, to the women, and also to the 
children; and also to the little ones creeping on the 
ground, and also to those still tied to the cradle-hoard. 

This we say, we three brothers. . . . 

“ Now^ another thing we will say, we younger broth- 
ers. You mourn. 1 will clear the sky for you so that 
you shall not behold a cloud. And also I give the sun to 
shine upon you, so that you can look peacefully upon 
it when it goes down. You shall see it when it is going. 
Yea, ye shall look peacefully upon it when it goes 
down. . . . 

‘‘ Now another thing we say, we younger brothers. 
If any one should fall, then the antlers shall he left on 
the grave. . . . 

“ Now another thing we say, we younger bi'others. 

507 


THE RECKONING 


We will gird the belt on you with the quiver, and the 
next death will receive the quiver whenever you shall 
hnow that there is death among us, when the -fire is made 
and the smoke is rising. This we say and do, we three 
brothers. 

“ Now I have finished. Now show me the man! ” 

Slowly the Oneida rose from my side and crossed 
the circle. Every eye was . on him ; he smiled as he 
halted, sweeping the throng with a tranquil glance. 
Then, drawing his blanket about him he stepped from 
the sanctuary of the council-ring out into the forest; 
and after him glided a Mohawk warrior, with face 
painted black, in token of his terrific office. 

A dead silence fell upon the council. 

The pulse was drumming in ears and throat when 
I arose; and, as the Mohawk executioner slipped noise- 
lessly past me, I seized him by the clout-belt, and, sum- 
moning every atom of strength, hurled him headlong 
at my feet, so that he lay stunned and like one dead. 

A roar of astonishment greeted me ; a score of voices 
cried out savagely on my violation of the fire. 

“ It is you who violate it ! ” I answered, trembling 
with fury ; “ you who dare pronounce the sentence 
of death without consulting the four classes of the 
Oneida ! ” 

A Mohawk sachem arose, casting his scarlet robes 
at his feet, and pointed at me, hissing : “ Where are 
the Oneida classes I dare you to tell us where the 
ensigns hide ! Where are they ^ Speak ! ” 

“ Here ! ” I said, tearing my cape open. “ Read 

308 


THENDARA 


that sign, O Canienga! I answer for the four classes 
of my nation, and I say that Oneida shall go free ! Now 
let him who dare accuse me stand forth. It is a Wolf 
of Tharon who has spoken ! ” 

Absolute silence greeted me. I had risked all on 
the hazard. 

The executioner had staggered to his feet again, 
and now stood outside the circle leaning against a young 
oak-tree, half stunned, mechanically rubbing the twigs 
and dead leaves from the sticky black paint that masked 
his visage. I wheeled on him and bade him remain 
where he was until the council’s will was made known; 
then I walked into the circle; and when they cried out 
that I had no franchise, I laughed at them, challenging 
them to deny me my right to stand here for the entire 
Oneida nation. 

For there was nothing now to do but to carry the 
desperate enterprise through or perish. I dared not 
stop to consider ; to attempt to remember precedents. I 
turned on the Mohawks haughtily, demanding that 
privilege which even they could not refuse; I claimed 
clan-brotherhood from every Wolf in the Long House; 
and when the council accorded it, I spoke: 

“ Now I say to you, O you wise men and sachems, 
that this Oneida shall not die, because the four classes 
speak through my mouth! Who is there to give me 
the lie.? Why are your eight score Oneidas absent — 
the eight score who still remain in the Long House? 
Surely, brothers, there are sachems among them? Why 
are they not here? Do you fear they might not agree 
to the punishment of the Oneida nation ? ” 

309 


THE RECKONING 


I folded my arms and stared at the Mohawks. 

“ Clan ties are close, national ties closer, but strong- 
est and closest of all, the six iron links that form the 
Great League! Why do you punish now.^ How can 
you punish now? Is it well to break the oldest League 
law to punish those who have broken the law of the 
League? ” 

A Mohawk sachem answered in a dozen stinging 
words that the League itself Avas broken ; but ere he 
could finish I stopped him with a gesture. 

Then, summoning all my powers, I burst out into a 
passionate protest, denying that the Great League was 
broken, glorying in its endurance, calling on every na- 
tion to uphold it. And instantly, although not a muscle 
moved nor a word was uttered, I felt that I had the 
council with me, that my passion was swaying them, 
that what I asserted they believed. I laughed at the 
neutrality of the Tuscaroras, at the half-hearted atti- 
tude of the Onondagas ; I made light of the rebellion 
of the greater portion of the Oneida nation. 

“ It is a passing fancy, a whim. The battle-breeze 
from this white man’s war has risen to a tempest, un- 
roofing the Long House, scattering you for the moment, 
creating a disorder, inciting a passion foreign to the 
traditions of the Iroquois. I tell you to let the tempest 
pass and blame no one, neither Tuscarora, Onondaga, 
nor Oneida. And when the storm has died out, let the 
Six Nations gather again from their hiding-places and 
build for the Long House a new roof, and raise ncAV 
lodge-poles, lest the sky fall down and the Confederacy 
lie in ashes foreA’'er! ” 


310 


THENDAK^l 


I had ended. A profound hush followed, broken by 
a low word of approval, then another, then another. 
Excited, scarcely knowing what I had done, incredulous 
that I alone had actually stemmed the tide, and, in a 
breath, overturned the entire plan of the Butlers and 
of the demoralized Iroquois, I seated myself beside the 
Tuscaroras, breathing heavily, alert for a sound that 
might indicate how my harangue had been received. 

Muttered expressions of approval, an emphatic word 
here and there, and not an orator to dispute me! — 
why, this was victory — though, until the clans had 
deliberated, I could not know the Federal verdict. But 
gradually it dawned on me that I had at least stopped 
the murder of my Oneida, and had lulled all suspicion 
concerning myself. With a thrill of joy I heard the 
Seneca spokesman call for the youth to be raised in 
place of the dead chief ; with a long-drawn breath of 
relief I saw the ancient belts brought, and listened to 
the reading of the archives from them. 

The council ended. One by one the sachems spoke 
to me kindly, then went their way, some taking to ca- 
noes, others filing off through the forest, until I found 
myself standing there alone before the smoldering fire, 
the forest before me, the noon sun blazing overhead. 

The Oneida, motionless now in the midst of those 
who had but an hour before decreed his death, watched 
the plumed sachems pass him in silence. Neither he nor 
they uttered a word ; but when the last canoe had glided 
off down the Dead Water toward the Sacandaga, and 
the last tall form faded from view in thicket, marsh, and 
forest, Little Otter turned and came quietly to me, lay- 
311 


THE RECKONING 


ing my hands on his heart, and looking me steadily in 
the eyes. Then together we returned, picking our path 
through the marsh, until we came to Lyn Montour. As 
she rose to meet us, a distant sound in the forest at- 
tracted the Oneida’s attention. I heard it, too; it was 
the gallop of horses, coming from the north. No Iro- 
quois rode a horse. 

Nearer, nearer sounded the drumming thud of the 
hoofs. I could feel the sodden marsh jarring now — - 
hear the brush crackle and snap. 

Suddenly a horseman galloped out of the forest’s 
edge, drew bridle at the clearing, bent and examined 
the covered fire, struck his forehead, and stared around 
him. 

The horseman was Walter Butler. 


312 


CHAPTER XIII 


THENDARA NO MORE 

Astounded at the apparition, yet instantly aware 
of his purpose, I sprang forward to meet him. That 
he did not immediately know me in my forest dress was 
plain enough, for he hastened my steps with an angry 
and imperious gesture, flung himself from his saddle, 
laid down his rifle, and strode to the heap of ashes that 
had once been the council-fire of Thendara — now Then- 
dara no more. 

His face was still flushed with passion when I came 
up, my rifle cradled in the hollow of my left arm; his 
distorted features worked silently as he pointed at the 
whitening ashes. Suddenly he burst out into a torrent 
of blasphemy. 

“ What in God’s name does this mean ” he shouted. 
“ Have the Iroquois dared leave this fire before I’ve 
had my say ? ” 

His rifle rested between him and me, barrel tilted 
across a rotting log, butt in the wet marsh grass. I took 
a quick step forward and dislodged the weapon, as 
though by accident, so that it lay where I could set my 
foot upon it if necessary. Instantly he faced me, alert, 
menacing; his dusky eyes lighted to a yellow glare; but 
when his gaze met mine sheer astonishment held him 
dumb. 


313 


THE RECKONING 


“ Captain Butler,” I said, controlling the fierce 
quiver in my voice, “ it is not this dead council-fire of 
Thendara that concerns a Yellow Wolf-whelp.” 

“ No,” he said, drawing a long breath, “ it is not 
this fire that concerns us — ” The voice died in his 
throat. Astonishment still dominated; he stared and 
stared. Then a ghastly laugh stretched his features — 
a soundless, terrible laugh. 

‘‘ So you have come to Thendara after all ! ” he said. 
“ In your fringes and thrums and capes and bead-work 
I did not know you, Mr. Renault, nor did I understand 
that Gretna Green is sometimes spelled Thendara ! ” 
He pointed at the ashes; an evil laugh stretched his 
mouth again : 

“ Thendara was! Thendara will be! Thendara — 
Thendara no more! And I am too late?” 

The evil, silent laugh grew terrible : “ Well, Mr. 
Renault, I had business elsewhere ; yet, had I known you 
had taken to forest-running, I would have come to meet 
you at Thendara. However, I think there is still time 
to arrange one or two small differences of opinion that 
have arisen between you and me.” 

‘‘ There is still time,” I said slowly. 

He cast an involuntary glance at his rifle ; made the 
slightest motion; hesitated, looking hard at me. I 
shook my head. 

“Not that way?” he inquired blandly. “Well,” 
with a cool shrug, “ that was 07ie way to arrange mat- 
ters, Mr. Renault — and remember I offered it! Re- 
member that, Mr. Renault, when men speak of you as 
they speak of Boyd ! ” 


SU 


THENDARA NO MORE 


The monstrous insult of the menace left me out- 
wardly unmoved; yet I wondered he had dared, seeing 
how helpless he must be did I but raise my rifle. 

“ Well, Mr. Renault,” he sneered, “ I was right, it 
seems, concerning that scrap o’ treason unearthed in 
your chambers. God ! how you flouted that beast. Sir 
Henry, and his fat-headed adjutant!” 

He studied me coldly : “ Do you mean to let me have 
my rifle.? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Oh ! you mean murder ? ” 

“ I am no executioner,” I said contemptuously. 
“ There are those a-plenty who will paint black for a 
guinea — after a court martial. There are those who 
paint for war, too, Mr. Butler.” 

I talked to gain time; and, curiously enough, he 
seemed to aid me, being in nowise anxious to force my 
hand. Ah! I should have been suspicious at that — I 
realized it soon enough — yet the Iroquois, leaving Then- 
dara for the rites at the Great Tree, were not yet out of 
sound of a shout, or of a rifle-shot— though I meant to 
take him alive, if that were possible. And all the while 
I watched his every careless gesture, every movement, 
every flutter of his insolent eyelids, ready to set foot 
upon his rifle and hold him to the spot. He no longer 
appeared to occupy himself with the recovery of his 
rifle ; he wore neither pistol nor knife nor hatchet ; in- 
deed, in his belt I saw a roll of paper, closely scribbled, 
and knew it to be a speech composed for delivery at this 
fire, now burned out forever. 

He placed his hands on his hips, pacing to and fro 
315 


THE RECKONING 


the distance between the fire and the edge of the Dead 
Water, now looking thoughtfully up into the blue sky, 
now lost in reverie. And every moment, I believed, w^as 
a precious moment gained, separating him more and 
more hopelessly from his favorite Senecas, whom he 
might even now summon by a shout. 

Presently he halted, with an absent, upward glance, 
then his gaze reverted to me; he drew out a handsome 
gold watch, examined it with expressionless interest, and 
slowly returned it to the fob-pocket. 

“ Well, sir,” he inquired, “ do I take it that you 
desire to further detain me here, or do you merely wish 
to steal my rifle.? ” 

“ I think, truly, that you no longer require your 
rifle, Mr. Butler,” I said quietly. 

“ A question — a matter of opinion, Mr. Renault.” 
He waved his hand gracefully. “ Who are your red 
friends yonder.?” pointing toward the two distant 
forms at the edge of the willows. 

“ An Oneida and a quarter-breed.” ^ 

“ Oh — ^a squaw .? By the head-gear I take the smaller 
one to be a Huron squaw. Which reminds me, Mr. 
Renault,” he added, with a dull stare, “ that the last 
time I had the pleasure of seeing your heels you were 
headed for the nearest parson!” 

That awful, soundless laugh distorted his mouth 
again : 

“ I could scarcely be expected to imagine,” he added, 
“ that it was as far as this to Gretna Green. Is the 
Hon. Miss Grey with you here? ” 

“ No, Mr. Butler, but your wife is with me.” 

316 


THENDARA NO MORE 


“ Oh ! ” he sneered ; “ so you have learned at last 
what she is ? ” 

“ You do not understand,” I continued patiently. 
“ I speak of your wife, Mr. Butler. Shall I name 
her.?” 

He looked at me narrowly. Twice his lips parted 
as though to speak, but no sound came. 

“ The woman yonder is Lyn Montour,” I said in 
a low voice. 

The yellow flare that lighted his black eyes appalled 
me. 

“ Listen to me,” I went on. “ That I do not slay 
you where you stand is because she is yonder, watching 
us. God help her, you shall do her justice yet! You 
are my prisoner, Mr. Butler I ” And I set my foot upon 
his rifle. 

He did not seem to hear me; his piercing gaze was 
concentrated on the two distant flgures standing beside 
the horse. 

I waited, then spoke again ; and, at the sound of my 
voice, he wheeled on me with a snarl. 

“ You damned spy I ” he stammered ; “ I’ll stop your 
dirty business now, by God I ” and, leaping back, 
whipped a ranger’s whistle to his lips, waking the forest 
echoes with the piercing summons ere I had bounded 
on him and had borne him down, shoulder-deep in moss 
and marsh-grass. 

Struggling, half smothered by the deep and matted 
tangle, I heard the startled shout of the Oneida; the 
distant crashing of many men running in the under- 
brush ; and, throttling him with both hands, I dragged 
23 317 


THE RECKONING 


him to his feet and started toward the Oneida, pulling 
my prisoner with me. But a yell from the wood’s edge 
seemed to put fresh life into him; he bit and scratched 
and struggled, and I labored in vain to choke him or 
stun him. Then, in very desperation and fear of life, 
I strove to kill him with my hands, but could not, and 
at last hurled him from me to shoot him; but he had 
kicked the flint from my rifle, and, as I leveled it, he 
dropped on the edge of the Dead Water and wriggled 
over, splash ! into the dark current, diving as my hatchet 
hit the waves. Then I heard the loud explosion of rifles 
behipd me; bullets tore through the scrub; I turned to 
run for my life. And it was time. 

“ Ugh ! ” grunted the Oneida, as I came bursting 
headlong through the willows. “ Follow now ! ” He 
seized the horse by the bridle; the girl mounted; then, 
leading the horse at a trot, we started due south through 
the tossing bushes. 

A man in a green uniform, knee-deep in the grass, 
fired at us from the Stacking-Ridge as we passed, and 
the Oneida shook his rifle at him with a shout of insult. 
For now at last the whole game was up, and my mission 
as a spy in this country ended once and forever. No 
chance now to hobnob with Johnson’s Greens, no chance 
to approach St. Leger and Haldimand. Butler was 
here, and there could be no more concealment. 

Such an exhilaration of savage happiness seized me 
that I lost my head, and begged the Oneida to stop 
and let me set a flint and give the Royal Greens a shot 
or two; but the wily chief refused; and he was wise, for 
I should have known that the Sacandaga must already 
318 


THENDARA NO MORE 


be a swarming nest of Johnson’s foresters and painted 
savages. 

The heat was terrific in the willows; sweat poured 
from the half-naked Oneida as he ran, and my hunting- 
shirt hung soaked, flapping across my thighs. 

We had doubled on them now, going almost due 
west. Far across the Vlaie I could see dark spots mov- 
ing along the Dead Water, and here and there a distant 
rifle glimmering as the sun struck it. Now and then 
a faint shout was borne to our ears as we halted, drip- 
ping and panting in the birches to reconnoiter some 
open swale ahead, or some cranberry-bog crimsoning 
under the October sun. 

We swam the marshy creek miles to the west, coming 
out presently into a rutty wagon-trail, which I knew 
ran south to Mayfield ; but we dared not use it, so steered 
the dripping horse southeast, chancing rather to cross 
Frenchman’s Creek, four miles above Varicks, and so, 
by a circle bearing east and south, reaching the Broad- 
albin trail, or some safe road between Galway and Perth, 
or, if driven to it, making for Saratoga as a last resort. 

My face was burned deep red, and I was soaked from 
neck to heels, so that my moccasins rubbed and chafed 
at every step. The girl had sat her saddle while the 
horse swam, so that her legs only were wet. As for the 
Oneida, his oiled and painted skin shed water like the 
plumage of a duck. Lord knows, we left a trail broad 
and wet enough for even a Hessian to follow; and for 
that reason dared not halt north of Frenchman’s Creek 
or short of Vanderveer’s grist-mill. 

As I plodded on, rifle at rail, I began to comprehend 

319 


THE RECKONING 


the full import of what had occurred since the day be- 
' fore, when I, with soul full of bitterness, had left Burke’s 
Inn. Was it only a day ago? By Heaven, it seemed 
a year since I had looked upon Elsin Grey ! And what 
a change in fortune had come upon us in these two 
score hours ! Free to wed now — if we dared accept the 
heart-broken testimony of this poor girl — if we dared 
deny the perjured testimony of a dishonored magis- 
trate, leagued with his fellow libertine, who, thank God, 
had at length learned something of the fury he used on 
others. Strange that in all this war I had never laid a 
rifle level save at him ; strange that I had never seen blood 
shed in anger, through all these battle years, except 
the blood that now dried, clotting on my cheek-bone, 
where his shoulder-buckle had cut me in the struggle. 
His spurs, too, had caught in the skirt of my hunting- 
shirt, tearing it to the fringed hem, and digging a fur- 
row across my instep; ahd the moccasin on that foot 
was stiff with blood. 

Ah, if I might only have brought him oflp ; if I 
might only have carried this guilty man to Johnstown ! 
Yet I should have known that Sir John’s men were likely 
to be within hail, fool that I was to take the desperate 
chance when a little parley, a little edging toward him, 
a sudden blow might have served. Yet I was glad in 
my heart that I had not used craft; cat traits are not 
instinctive with me; craft, stealth, a purring ambush — 
faugh! I was no coward to beat him down unawares. 
I had openly declared him prisoner, and I was glad I 
had done so. Why, I might have shot him as we talked, 
had I been of a breed to do murder — had I been inhu- 
320 


THENDARA NO MORE 


man enough to slay him, unwarned, before the very eyes 
of the woman he had wronged, and who still hoped for 
mercy from him lest she pass her life a loathed and 
wretched outcast among the people who had accepted 
her as an Iroquois. 

Thinking of these things which so deeply concerned 
me, I plodded forward with the others, hour after hour, 
halting once to drink and to eat a little of our parched 
corn, then to the unspotted trail once more, impercep- 
tibly gaining the slope of that watershed, the streams 
of which feed the Mayfield Creek, and ultimately the 
Hudson. 

Varicks we skirted, not knowing but Sir John’s 
scouts might be in possession, the peppery, fat patroon 
having closed his house and taken his flock to Albany; 
and so traveling the forest east by south, made for the 
head waters of that limpid trout-stream I had so often 
fished, spite of the posted warnings and the indignation 
of the fat patroon, who hated me. 

I think it was about four o’clock in the afternoon 
when, pressing through brush and windfall, we came 
suddenly out into a sunny road. Beside the road ran 
a stream clattering down-hill over its stony bed — a clear, 
noisy stream, with swirling brown trout-pools and 
rapids, rushing between ledges, foaming around boul- 
ders, a joyous, rolicking, dashing, headlong stream, 
that seemed to cheer us with its gay clamor; and I saw 
the Oneida’s stern eyes soften as he bent his gaze upon 
it. Poor little Lyn Montour slipped, with a sigh, from 
her saddle, while my horse buried his dusty nose in the 
sparkling Avater, drawing deep, cold draughts through 
S^l 


THE RECKONING 


his hot throat. And here by the familiar head waters 
of Frenchman’s Creek we rested in full sight of the 
grist-mill above us, where the road curved west. The 
mill-wheel w^as turning ; a man came to the window over- 
looking the stream and stood gazing at us, and I waved 
my hand at him reassuringly, recognizing old Vander- 
veer. 

Beyond the mill I could see smoke rising from the 
chimneys of the unseen settlement. Presently a small 
barefoot boy came out of the mill, looked at us a mo- 
ment, then turned and legged it up the road tight as 
he could go. The Oneida, smoking his pipe, saw the 
lad’s hasty flight, and smiled slightly. 

“ Yes, Little Otter,” I said, “ they take us for some 
of Sir John’s people. You’ll see them coming pres- 
ently with their guns. Hark ! There goes a signal- 
shot now ! ” 

The smacking crack of a rifle echoed among the hills ; 
a conch-horn’s melancholy note sounded persistently. 

“ Let us go on to the Yellow^ Tavern,” I said; and 
we rose and limped forw^ard, leading the horse, whose 
head hung w^earily. 

Before we reached the Oswaya mill some men in their 
shirt-sleeves shot at us, then ran down through an or- 
chard, calling on us to halt. One carried a shovel, one 
a rifle, and the older man, whom I knew as a former 
tenant of my father, bore an ancient firelock. When I 
called out to him by name he seemed confused, demand- 
ing to know whether w'e were Whigs or Tories ; and when 
at length he recognized me he appeared to be vastly 
relieved. It seemed that he, Wemple, and his two sons 


THENDARA NO MORE 


had been burying apples, and that bearing the shot fired, 
bad started for their homes, where already the alarm 
had spread. Seeing us, and supposing we had cut him 
off from the settlement, he had decided to fight his way 
through to the mill. 

“ I’m mighty glad you ain’t shot, Mr. Renault,” 
he said in his thin, high voice, scratching his chin, and 
staring hard at the Oneida. “ Seein’ these here painted 
injuns sorter riled me up, an’ I up an’ let ye have it. 
So did Willum here. Lord, sir, we’ve been expecting 
Sir John for a month, so you must kindly excuse us, 
Mr. Renault ! ” 

He shook his white head and looked up the road 
where a dozen armed men were already gathered, watch- 
ing us from behind the fences. 

“ Sir John is on the Sacandaga,” I said. “Why 
don’t you go to Johnstown, Wemple.?^ This is no place 
for your people.” 

He stood, rubbing his hard jaw reflectively. 

“ Waal, sir,” he piped, “ it’s kind er hard to leave 
all you’ve got in the world.” He added, looking around 
at his fields : “ I’d be a pauper if I quit. Mebbe they 
won’t come here, after all. Mebbe Sir John will go 
down the Valley.” 

“ Besides, w'e ain’t got our pumpkins in nor the 
winter corn stacked,” observed one of his sons sullenly. 

We all turned and walked slowly up the road in the 
direction of the big yellow tavern, old Wemple shaking 
his head, and talking all the while in a thin, flat, high- 
pitched voice: “ It seems kind’r hard that Sir John can’t 
quit his pesterin’ an’ leave folks alone. What call has 


THE RECKONING 


he to come back a-dodgin’ ’round here year after year, 
a-butcherin’ his old neighbors, Mr. Renault ’Pears to 
me he’s gone crazy as a mad dog, a-whirlin’ round and 
round the same stump, buttin’ and bitin’ and clawin’ 
up the hull place. Sakes alive ! ain’t he got no human 
natur’.f^ Last Tuesday they come to Dan Norris’s, five 
mile down the creek, an’ old man Norris he was in the 
barn makin’ a ladder, an’ Dan he was gone for the cow. 
A painted Tory run into the kitchen an’ hit the old 
woman with his hatchet, an’ she fetched a screech, an’ 
her darter, ’Liza, she screeched, too. Then a Injun 
he hit the darter, and he kep’ a-kickin’ an’ a-hittin’, an’ 
old man Norris he heard the rumpus out to the barn, 
an’ he run in, an’ they pushed him out damn quick an’ 
shot him in the legs. A Tory clubbed him an’ ripped 
his skelp off, the old man on his knees, a-bellowin’ piteous, 
till they knifed him all to slivers an’ kicked what was 
left o’ him into the road. The darter she prayed an’ 
yelled, but ’twan’t no use, for they cut her that bad 
with hatchets she was dead when Dan came a-runnin’. 
‘ God ! ’ he says, an’ goes at the inimy, swingin’ his 
milk-stool — but. Lord, sir, what can one man do.^^ He 
was that shot up it ’ud sicken you, Mr. Renault. An’ 
then they w^as two little boys a-lookin’ on at it, too fright- 
ened to move; but when the destructives was a-beatin’ 
old Mrs. Norris to death they hid in the fence-hedge. 
An’ they both of ’em might agot clean off, only the 
littlest one screamed when they tore the skelp off’n the 
old woman; an’ he run off, but a Tory he chased him 
an’ ketched him by the fence, an’ he jest held the child’s 
legs between his’n, an’ bent him back an’ cut his throat, 
821 


THENDARA NO MORE 


the boy a-squealin’ something awful. Then the Tory 
skelped him an’ hung him acrost the fence. The only 
Norris what come out of it was the lad who lay tight in 
the fence-scrub — Jimmy. He’s up at my house; you’ll 
see him. He come here that night to tell us of them 
goin’s on. He acts kinder stupid, like he ain’t got no 
wits, an’ he jests sets an’ sets, starin’ at nothin’ — least- 
ways at nothin’ I kin see ” 

His high-pitched, garrulous chatter, and the horrid 
purport of it, were to me indescribably ghastly. To 
hear such things told without tremor or emphasis or 
other emotion than the sullen faces of his two strapping 
sons — to hear these incredible horrors babbled by an 
old man whose fate might be the same that very night, 
affected me with such an overpowering sense of helpless- 
ness that I could find no word to reassure either him or 
the men and boys who now came crowding around us, 
asking anxiously if we had news from the Sacandaga 
or from the north. 

All I could do was to urge them to leave their homes 
and go to Johnstown; but they shook their heads, some 
asserting that Johnstown was full of Tories, awaiting 
the coming of Walter Butler to rise and massacre every- 
body; others declaring that the Yellow Tavern, which 
had been fortified, was safer than Albany itself. None 
wmuld leave house or land; and whether these people 
really believed that they could hold out against a sud- 
den onslaught, I never knew. They were the usual mix- 
ture of races, some of low Dutch extraction, like the 
Vanderveers and Wemples, some high Dutch, like the 
Kleins; and, around me, I saw, recognized, and greeted 
325 


THE RECKONING 


people who in peaceful days had been settled in these 
parts, and some among them had wmrked for my father 
— ^honest, simple folk, like Patrick Farris, with his 
pretty Dutch wife and tow-headed youngsters; and 
John Warren, once my father’s head groom, and Jacob 
Klock, kinsman of the w^ell-known people of that name. 

The Oneida, pressed and questioned on every side, 
replied in guarded monosyllables; poor Lyn Montour, 
wrapped to the eyes in her blanket, passed for an Iro- 
quois youth, and was questioned mercilessly, until I in- 
terposed and opened the tavern door for her and for 
Little Otter. 

“ I tell you, Wemple,” I said, turning on the tavern 
porch to address the people, “ there is no safety here 
for you if Walter Butler or Sir John arrive here in 
force. It will be hatchet and torch again — the same 
story, due to the same strange Dutch obstinacy, or Ger- 
man apathy, or Yankee foolhardiness. In the grain 
belt it is different; there the farmers are obliged to ex- 
pose themselves because our army needs bread. But 
your corn and buckwheat and pumpkins and apples can 
be left for a week or two until we see how this thing is 
going to end. Be sensible; stack what you can, but 
don’t wait to thresh or grind. Bury your apples; let 
the cider go ; harness up ; gather your cattle and sheep ; 
pack up the clock and feather bed, and move to Johns- 
town with your families. In a week or two you will 
know whether this country is to be given to the torch 
again, or whether, by God’s grace. Colonel Willett is 
to send Walter Butler packing! I’ll wait here a day 
for you. Think it over. 


3S6 


THENDARA NO MORE 


“ I have seen the Iroquois at the Sacandaga Vlaie. 
I saw Walter Butler there, too ; and the woods were 
alive with Johnson’s Greens. The only reason why they 
have not struck you here is, no doubt, because there was 
more plunder and more killing to be had along the 
Sacandaga. But when there remain no settlements 
there — when villages, towns, hamlets are in ashes, like 
Currietown, like Minnesink, Cherry Valley, Wyoming, 
Caughnawaga, then they’ll turn their hatchets on these 
lone farms, these straggling hamlets and cross-road tav- 
erns. I tell you, to-day there is not a house unbumed 
at Caughnawaga, except the church and that villain 
Doxtader’s house — not a chimney standing in the 
Mohawk Valley, from Tribes Hill to the Nose. Ten 
miles of houses in ashes, ten miles of fields a charred 
trail ! 

“ Now, do as you please, but remember. For 
surely as I stand here the militia call has already gone 
out, and this country must remain exposed while we 
follow Butler and try to hunt him down.” 

The little throng of people, scarcely a dozen in all, 
received my warning in silence. Glancing down the 
road, I saw one or two women standing at their house 
doors, and children huddled at the gate, all intently 
watching us. 

“ I want to send a message to Colonel Willett,” I 
said, turning to the Oneida. Can you go? Now? ” 

The tireless fellow smiled. 

“ Give us what you have to eat,” I said to Patrick 
Farris, whose round and rosy little wife had already 
laid the board in the big room inside. And presently 
327 


THE RECKONING 


we sat down to samp, apple-sauce, and bread, with a 
great bowl of fresh milk to each cover. 

The Oneida ate sparingly; the girl mechanically, 
dull eyes persistently lowered. From the first moment 
that the Oneida had seen her he had never addressed a 
single word to her, nor had he, after the first keen 
glance, even looked at her. This, in the stress of cir- 
cumstances, the forced and hasty marches, the breath- 
less trail, the tension of the Thendara situation, was not 
extraordinary. But after excitement and fatigue, and 
when together under the present conditions, two Iro- 
quois would certainly speak together. 

Anxious, preoccupied as I was, I could not help but 
notice how absolutely the Oneida ignored the girl; and 
I knew that he regarded her as an Oneida invariably 
regards a woman no longer respected by the most chaste 
of all people, the Iroquois nation. 

That she understood and passionately resented this 
was perfectly plain to me, though she neither spoke nor 
moved. There was nothing for me to do or say. Al- 
ready I had argued the matter with myself from every 
standpoint, and eagerly as I sought for solace, for a 
ray of hope, I could not but understand how vain it 
were to ask a cynical world to believe that this young 
girl was Walter Butler’s wife. No; with his denial, 
with the averted faces of the sachems on the Kenny etto, 
as she herself had admitted, with the denial of Sir John, 
what evidence could be brought forward to justify me 
in wedding Elsin Grey? Another thing: even if Sir 
John should admit that, acting in capacity of a magis- 
trate of Tryon County, he had witnessed the marriage 
S28 


THENDARA NO MORE 


Walter Butler and Lyn jVIontour, what civil powers 
had a deposed magistrate ; a fugitive who had broken 
parole and fled? 

No, there was no legal tie here. I was not now free 
to wed ; I understood that as I sat there, staring out of 
the window into the red west, kindling to flame behind 
the Mayfield hills. 

The Oneida, rolling himself in his blanket, had 
stretched out on the bare floor by the hearth; the girl, 
head buried in her hands, sat brooding above the empty 
board. Farris fetched me ink and quill and the only 
sheet of paper in the settlement; but it was sufficiently 
large to tear in half ; and I inked my rusty quill and 
wrote : 

“ Yellow Tavern, 

“ OswAYA ON Frenchman’s Creek. 

“ Colonel Marines Willett : 

“ Sir — I have the honor to report that the scout of 
two, under my command, proceeded, agreeable to orders, 
as far as the Vlaie, called Sacandaga Vlaie, arriving 
there at dawn and in time for the council and rites of 
Thendara, which were held at the edge of the Dead 
Water or Vlaie Creek. 

“ I flatter myself that the Long House has aban- 
doned any idea of punishing the Oneidas for the pres- 
ent — the council recognizing my neutral right to speak 
for the Oneida nation. The Oneidas dissenting, nat- 
urally there could be no national unanimity, which is 
required at Thendara before the Long House embarks 
upon any Federal policy. 

“ Whether or not this action of mine was wise, you, 
sir, must judge. It may be that what I have done will 
only serve to consolidate the enemy in the next enter- 
prise they undertake. 


329 


THE RECKONING 


“ My usefulness as a spy in Sir John’s camp must 
prove abortive, as I encountered Captain Walter But- 
ler at the Dead Water, who knows me, and who is aware 
of my business in New York. Attempting to take him, 
I made a bad matter of it, he escaping by diving. Some 
men in green uniforms, whom I suppose were foresters 
from Sir John’s corps, firing on us, I deemed it prudent 
to take to my heels as far as the settlement called Os- 
waya, which is on Frenchman’s Creek, some five miles 
above Varicks. 

“ The settlement is practically defenseless, and the 
people hereabout expect trouble. If you believe it worth 
while to send some Rangers here to complete the harvest, 
it should, I think, be done at once. Patrick Farris, 
landlord at the Yellow Tavern, estimates the buckwheat 
at five thousand bushels. There is also a great store of 
good apples, considerable pitted corn, and much still 
standing unstacked, and several acres of squashes and 
pumpkins — all a temptation to the enemy. 

“ I can form no estimate of Sir John’s force on the 
Sacandaga. This letter goes to you by the Oneida 
runner. Little Otter, who deserves kind treatment for 
his services. I send you also, under his escort, an un- 
fortunate young girl, of whom you have doubtless 
heard. She is Lyn Montour, and is by right, if not by 
law, the wife of Captain Walter Butler. He repudiates 
her ; her own people disown her. I think, perhaps, some 
charitable lady of the garrison may find a home for 
her in Johnstown or in Albany. She is Christian by 
instinct if not by profession. 

“ Awaiting your instructions here, I have the honor 
to remain. Your humble and ob’t servant, 

“ Carus Renault, 

“ Regt, Staff Captr 

The sun had set. Farris brought a tallow dip. He 
also laid a fire in the fireplace and lighted it, for the 
330 


THENDARA NO MORE 


evening had turned from chill to sheer dry cold, which 
usually meant a rain for the morrow in these parts. 

Shivering a little in my wet deerskins, I sanded, 
folded, directed, and sealed the letter, laid it aside, and 
drew the other half-sheet toward me. For a few mo- 
ments I pondered, head supported on one hand, then 
dipped quill in horn and wrote: 


“ Beloved — There is a poor young girl here who 
journeys to-night to Johnstown under escort of my 
Oneida. Do what you can for her in Johnstown. If 
you win her confidence, perhaps we both may help her. 
Her lot is sad enough. 

“ Dearest, I am to acquaint you that I am no longer, 
by God’s charity, a spy. I now hope to take the field 
openly as soon as our scouts can find out just exactly 
where Major Ross and Butler’s Rangers are. 

“ To my great astonishment, disgust, and mortifi- 
cation, I have learned that Walter Butler is near here. 
He evidently rode forward, preceding his command, in 
order to be present at an Iroquois fire. He was too late 
to w’ork anybod}'^ a mischief in that direction. 

“ It is now our duty to watch for his Rangers and 
forestall their attack. For that purpose I expect 
Colonel Willett to send me a strong scout or to recall me 
to Johnstown. My impatience to hold you in my arms 
is tempered only by my hot desire to wash out the taint 
of my former duties in the full, clean flood of open and 
honorable battle. 

“ Time presses, and I must wake my Oneida. See 
that my horse is cared for, dearest. Remember he bore 
me gallantly on that ride for life and love. 

“ I dare not keep Colonel Willett’s report waiting 
another minute. Good night, my sweet Elsin. All 
things must come to us at last. Carus.” 

331 


THE RECKONING 


I dried the letter by the heat of the blazing 
logs. The Indian stirred, sat up in his blanket, 
and looked at me with the bright, clear eyes of a 
hound. 

“ I am ready, brother,” I said gently. 

It was cold, clear starlight when Farris brought my 
horse around. I set Lyn Montour in the saddle, and 
walked out into the road with her, my hand resting on 
her horse’s mane. 

“ Try not to be sad,” I whispered, as she settled 
herself in the stirrups like a slim young trooper, and 
slowly gathered bridle. 

“ I am no longer sad, Mr. Renault,” she said tremu- 
lously. “ I comprehend that I have no longer any 
chance in the world.” 

“ Not among your adopted people,” I said, “ but 
white people understand. There is no reason, child, 
why you should not carry your head proudly. You 
are guiltless, little sister.” 

“ I am truly unconscious of any sin,” she said 
simply. 

“ You have committed none. His the black shame 
of your betrayal! And now that you know him for 
the foul beast he is, there can be no earthly reason that 
you should suffer either in pride or conscience. You are 
pitifully young; you have life before you — the life of 
a white woman, with its chances, its desires, its aims, 
its right to happiness. Take it I I bid you be happy, 
little sister ; I bid you hope I ” 

She turned her face and looked at me; the ghost 
of a smile trembled on her lips ; then, inclining her head 
SS2 


THENDARA NO MORE 


in the sweetest of salutes, she wheeled her horse out into 
the tremulous starlight. And after her stole the tall 
Oneida, rifle slanted across his naked shoulders, striding 
silently at her stirrup as she rode. I had a momentary 
glimpse of their shadowy shapes moving against the sky, 
then they were blotted out in the gloom of the trees, 
leaving me in the road peering after them through the 
darkness, until even the far stroke of the horse’s feet 
died out, and there was no sound in the black silence 
save the hushed rushing of the stream hurrying through 
the shrouded hollow below. 

Not a light glimmered in the settlement. The un- 
gainly tavern, every window sealed with solid shutters, 
sprawled at the cross-roads, a strange, indistinct sil- 
houette ; the night-mist hung low over the flelds of half- 
charred stumps, and above the distant bed of the brook 
a band of fog trailed, faintly luminous. 

Never before had I so deeply felt the desolation of 
the northland. In a wilderness there is nothing for- 
bidding to me ; its huge earth-bedded, living pillars sup- 
porting the enormous canopy of green, its vastness, its 
mystery, its calm, silence, may awe yet nothing sadden. 
But a vague foreboding enters when man enters. Where 
his com grows amid the cinders of primeval things, his 
wanton gashes on tree and land, his beastly pollution 
of the wild, crystal waters, all the restlessness, and bar- 
renness, and filth, and sordid deformity he calls his home 
— these sadden me unutterably. 

I know, too, that Sir William Johnson felt as I do, 
loving the forest for its own beautiful, noble sake; and 
the great Virginian, who cared most for the majestic 
23 333 


THE RECKONING 


sylvan gardens planted by tlie Almighty, grieved at 
destruction, and, even in the stress of anxiety, when his 
carpenters and foresters were dealing pitilessly with the 
woods about West Point in order to furnish timber for 
the redoubts and the floats for the great chain, he 
thought to warn his engineers to beware of waste caused 
by ignorance or wantonness. 

Where rich and fertile soil is the reward for the 
desperate battle with an iron forest, I can comprehend 
the clearing of a wilderness, and admire the trans- 
formation into gentle hills clothed in green, meadows, 
alder-bordered waters, acres of grain, and dainty young 
orchards ; but here, in this land, only the flats along the 
river-courses are worthy of cultivation; the rest is sand 
and rock deeply covered with the forest mast, and fer- 
tile only while that lasts. And the forest once gone, 
land and w^ater shrivel, unnourished, leaving a desert 
amid charred stumps and the white phantoms of dead 
pines. I was ever averse to the cutting of the forests 
here, except for selected crops of ripened timber to be 
replaced by natural growth ere the next crop had 
ripened; and Sir William Johnson, who w^as wise in such 
matters, set us a wholesome example which our yeomen 
have not followed. And already lands cleared fifty 
years since have run out to the sandy subsoil; yet still 
the axes flash, still the great trees groan and fall, crash- 
ing through and smashing their helpless fellows ; and in 
God’s own garden waters shrink, and fire passes, and 
the deer flee away, and rain fails, because man 
passes in his folly, and the path of the fool is destruc- 
tion. 


334i 


THENDARA NO MORE 


Where Thendara was, green trees flourish to the 
glory of the Holder of Heaven. 

Where the forest whitens with men, the earth mourns 
in ashes for the lost Thendara — Thendara ! Thendara 
no more! 


335 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 

Two weeks of maddening inactivity followed the ar- 
rival at the Yellow Tavern of an express from Colonel 
Willett, carr^dng orders for me to remain at Oswaya 
until further command, bury all apples, pit the corn, 
and mill what buckwheat the settlers could spare as a 
deposit for the army. 

Not a word since that time had I heard from Johns- 
town, although it was rumored in the settlement that 
the Rangers had taken the field in scouts of five, covering 
the frontier to get into touch with the long-expected 
forces that might come from Niagara under Ross and 
Walter Butler, or from the east under St. Leger and 
Sir John, or even perhaps under Haldimand. 

Never had I known such hot impatience, such in- 
creasing anxiety; never had I felt so bitterly that the 
last chance was vanishing for me to strike an honest 
blow in a struggle wherein I, hitherto inert, had figured 
so meanly, so ingloriously. 

To turn farmer clodhopper now was heart-breaking. 
Yet all I could do was to organize a sort of home guard 
there, detail a different yokel every day to watch the 
road to Varicks, five miles below, by which the enemy 
must arrive if they marched with artillery and wagons, 
336 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


as it was rumored they would. At night I placed a 
sentinel by the mill to guard against scalping parties, 
and another on the hill to watch the West and South. 
Meager defenses, one might say, and even the tavern 
was unstockaded, and protected only by loops and oaken 
shutters ; but every man and woman was demanded for 
the harvest ; even the children staggered off to the 
threshing-barns, laden with sheaves of red-stemmed 
buckwheat, or rolled pumpkins and squashes to the 
wagons, or shook down crimson apples for the men to 
cart away and bury. 

The little Norris boy labored with the others — a 
thin, sallow child, heavy-eyed and silent. He had re- 
covered somewhat from the shock of the tragedy he 
had witnessed, and strove to do what was asked of him, 
but when spoken to, seemed confused and slow of com- 
prehension; and the tears were ever starting or smeared 
over his freckled face from cheek to chin. 

Being an officer, the poor, heavy-witted folk looked 
to me for the counsel and wisdom my inexperience 
lacked. All I could do for them was to arrange their 
retreat to the tavern at the first signal of danger, and 
to urge that the women and children sleep there at 
night. My advice was only partly followed. As the 
golden October days passed, with no fresh alarm from 
the Sacandaga, thqir apathetic fatalism turned to a 
timid confidence that their homes and lands might yet 
be spared. 

Wemple sold his buckwheat on promise of pay in 
paper dollars, and we milled it and barreled it, and made 
a deposit in Klein’s sugar-bush. 

337 


THE KECKONlNa 


Distant neighbors came a-horseback to the mill with 
news from neighbors, still more distant, that Sir John 
had retreated northward frbm the Sacandaga, toward 
Edward; that the Tories threatened Ballston; that In- 
dians had been seen near Galway; that the garrison at 
Schenectady had been warned to take the field against 
St. Leger; that on Champlain General Haldimand had 
gathered a great fleet, and his maneuvers were a mys- 
tery to the scouts watching him. But no rumors were 
carried to us concerning Ross and Butler, except that 
strange vessels had been seen leaving Bucks Island. 

The tension, the wearing anxiety, and harrowing 
chagrin that I had been left here forgotten, waxed to 
a fever that drove me all day restlessly from field 
to field, from house to barn, and back to the tavern, to 
sit watching the road for sign of a messenger to set me 
free of this dreary, hopeless place. 

And on one bright, cold morning in late October, 
when to keep warm one must seek the sunny lee of the 
tavern, I sat brooding, watching the crimson maple- 
leaves falling from the forest in showers. Frost had 
come, silvering the stiffened earth, and patches of it 
still lingered in shady places. Oaks were brown, elms 
yellow; birches had shed their leaves; and already the 
forest stretched bluish and misty, set with flecks of scar- 
let maple and the darker patches of the pine. 

On that early morning, just after sunrise, I sensed 
a hint of snow in the wind that blew out of the purple 
north; and the premonition sickened me, for it meant 
the campaign ended. 

Ill an ugly and sullen mood I sat glowering at the 
SSS 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


blackened weeds cut by the frost, when, hearing the 
sound of horses’ feet on the hill, I rose and stood on 
tiptoe to see who might be coming at such a pace. 

People ran out to the rear to look ; nearer and nearer 
came the dull, battering gallop, then a rider rushed into 
view, leaning far forward, waving his arm; and a far 
cry sounded: “Express, ho! News for Captain Re- 
nault I ” 

An express ! I sprang to the edge of the road as 
the horse thundered by; and the red-faced rider, plas- 
tered with mud, twisted in his saddle and hurled a packet 
at me, shouting : “ Butler is in the Valley I Turn out ! 
Turn out I ” sweeping past in a whirlwind of dust and 
flying stones. 

As I caught up the packet from the grass Parris 
ran out and fired his musket, then set the conch-horn 
to his mouth and sent a long-drawn, melancholy warn- 
ing booming through the forest. 

“ Close up those shutters ! ” I said, “ and fill the 
water-casks ! ” 

Men came running from barn and mill, shouting 
for the women and children ; men ran to the hill to look 
for signs of the enemy, to drive in cattle, to close and 
latch the doors of their wretched dwellings, as though 
bolt and bar could keep out the red fury now at last 
unloosened. 

I saw a woman, to whose ragged skirts three chil- 
dren clung, toiling across a stump-field, staggering 
under a flour-sack full of humble household goods. One 
of the babies carried a gray kitten clasped to her breast. 

Pell-mell into the tavern they hurried, white-faced, 

331 ) 


THE RECKONING 


panting, pushing their terrified children into dark cor- 
ners and under tables. 

“ Tell that woman to let her cow go ! ” I shouted, 
as a frightened heifer dashed up the road, followed by 
its owner, jerked almost off her feet by the tether-rope. 
Old Wemple seized the distracted woman by the shoulder 
and dragged her back to the tavern, she weeping and 
turning her head at every step. 

In the midst of this howling hubbub I ripped open 
my despatches and read: 

“ Johnstown, 

“ October 25, 1781. 

“ Capt. Renault : 

“ Sir — Pursuant to urgent orders this instant ar- 
rived by express from Col. Willett at Fort Rensselaer, 
I have the honor to inform you that Major Ross and 
Capt. Walter Butler have unexpectedly struck the Val- 
ley at Warren’s Bush with the following forces : 


Eighth Regiment 25 

Thirty-fourth Regiment 100 

Eighty-fourth Highlanders Regiment. . 36 

Sir John’s Royal Greens Regiment 120 

Yagers Regiment 12 

Butler’s Rangers 150 

Indians 130 

Renegades 40 


With bat-horses, baggage-wagons, and camp-trains, in- 
cluding forces amounting to a thousand rifles. 

“ What portion of the invading army this flying 
column may represent is at present unknown to me. 

“ The militia call is out ; expresses are riding the 
county to warn every post, settlement, and blockhouse; 
Colonel Willett, with part of the garrison at Fort Rens- 
340 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


selaer, is marching on Fort Hunter to join his forces 
with your Rangers, picking up the scouts on his way, 
and expects to strike Butler at the ford below Tribes 
Hill. 

“ You will gather from this, sir, that Johnstown is 
gravely menaced, and no garrison left except a few 
militia. Indeed, our situation must shortly be deplor- 
able if Colonel Willett does not deliver battle at the 
ford. 

“ Therefore, if you can start at once and pick up 
a post of your riflemen at Broadalbin Bush, it may help 
us to hold the jail here until some aid arrives from 
Colonel Willett. 

“ The town is panic-stricken. All last night the 
people stood on the lawn by Johnson Hall and watched 
the red glare in the sky where the enemy were burning 
the Valley. Massacre, the torch, and hatchet seem al- 
ready at our thresholds. However, the event remains 
with God. I shall hold the jail to the last. 

“ Your ob’t serv’t, 

“ Rowley, Major Com^nd’g.^^ 

For one dreadful moment every drop of blood seemed 
to leave my body. I sank into a chair, staring into the 
sunshine, seeing nothing. Then the pale face of Elsin 
Grey took shape before me, gazing at me sorrowfully; 
and I sprang up, shuddering, and looking about me. 
What in God’s name was I to do.?^ Go to her and leave 
these women and babies.? — leave these dull-witted men 
to defend themselves.? Why not.? Every nerve in me 
tightened with terror at her danger, every heart-heat 
responded passionately to the appeal. Yet how could I 
go, with these white-faced women watching me in help- 
less confidence; with these frightened children gathering 
341 


THE RECKONING 


around me, looking up into my face, reaching trustfully 
for my clenched hands? 

In an agony of indecision I turned to the door and 
gazed down the road, an instant only, then leaped back 
and slammed the great oaken portal, shooting the bars. 

Destiny had decided; Fate had cut the knot! 

“ Every man to a loop ! ” I called out steadily. 
“ Wemple, take your sons to the east room ; Klein, you 
and Farris and Klock take the west and south ; Warren, 
look out for the west. They may try to fire the wooden 
water-leader. Mrs. Farris, see that the tubs of water 
are ready; and you, Mrs. Warren, take the women and 
children to the cellar and be ready to dip up buckets of 
water from the cistern.” 

Silence; a trample on the stairs as the men ran to 
their posts ; not a cry, not a whimper from the children. 

I climbed the stairs, and lying at full length beside 
the loop, cocked my rifle, and peered out. Almost in- 
stantly I saw a man dodge into Klein’s house too quickly 
for me to fire. Presently the interior of the house red- 
dened behind the windows; a thin haze of smoke ap- 
peared as by magic, hanging like a curtain above the 
roof. Then, with a crackling roar that came plainly to 
my ears, the barn behind the house was buried in flame, 
seeming almost to blow up in one huge puff of bluish- 
white smoke. 

I heard Wemple’s ancient firelock explode, followed 
by the crack of his sons’ rifles, and I saw an Indian run- 
ning across the pasture. 

Klein’s house was now curtained with blackish 
smoke; Wemple’s, too, had begun to burn, the roof all 
34 ^ 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


tufted with clear little flames, that seemed to give out 
no smoke in the sunshine. An Indian darted across the 
door-yard, and leaped into the road, but at the stun- 
ning report of Warren’s rifle he stopped, dropping his 
gun, and slowly sank, face downward, in the dust. 

Then I heard the barking scalp-yelp break out, and 
a storm of bullets struck the tavern, leaving along the 
forest’s edge a low wall of brown vapor, which lingered 
as though glued to the herbage ; and through it, red as 
candle-flames in fog, the spirting flicker of the rifles 
played, and the old tavern rang with leaden hail. Sud- 
denly the fusillade ceased. Far away I heard a ranger’s 
whistle calling, calling persistently. 

Wemple’s barn was now burning fiercely; the mill, 
too, had caught fire, and an ominous ruddy glare behind 
Warren’s windows brightened and brightened. 

Behind me, and on either side of me, the frenzied 
farmers were firing, maddened by the sight of the de- 
struction, until I was obliged to run among the men 
and shake them, warning them to spare their powder 
until there was something besides the forest to shoot at. 
The interior of the tavern was thick with powder-smoke. 
I heard people coughing all around me. 

And now, out of rifle-range, I caught my first good 
view of the marauders passing along the red stubble- 
fields north of Warren’s barn — some hundred Indians 
and Tories, marching in columns of fours, rifles atrail, 
south by east. To my astonishment, instead of facing, 
they swung around us on a dog-trot, still out of range, 
pressing steadily forward across the rising gi’ound. 
Then suddenly I comprehended. They cared nothing 


THE RECKONING 


for Oswaya when there was prime killing and plunder 
a-plenty to be had in the Valley. They were headed for 
Johnstown, where the vultures were already gathering. 

Old Wemple had run down-stairs and flung open the 
door to watch them. I followed, rifle in hand, and w'c 
sped hotfoot across the stump-lot and out upon the 
hill. Surely enough, there they were in the distance, 
hastening away to the southward at a long, swinging 
lope, like a pack of timber-wolves jogging to a kill. 

“ Hold the tavern to-night and then strike out for 
Saratoga with all your people,” I said hurriedly. 
“ They’re gone, and I mean to follow them.” 

“Be ye goin’, sir.?^ ” quavered the old man. He 
turned to gaze at the blazing settlement below, tears 
running down his cheeks. 

“ Oh, Lord ! Thy will be done — I guess,” he said. 

Farris, Warren, and Klock came up on the run. I 
pointed at the distant forest, into which the column was 
disappearing. 

“ Keep the tavern to-night,” I said hoarsely ; “ there 
may be a skulking scalp-hunter or two prowling about 
until morning, but they’ll be gone by sunrise. Good-by, 
lads!” 

One by one they extended their powder-blackened, 
labor-torn hands, then turned away in silence toward 
the conflagration below, to face wdnter in the wilderness 
without a roof. 

Rifle at trail, teeth set, I descended the hill, dodg- 
ing among the blackened stumps, and entered the woods 
on a steady run. I had no need of a path save for 
comfort in the going, for this region was perfectly 
SU 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


familiar to me from the Sacandaga to the Kennyetto, 
and from Mayfield Creek to the Cayadutta — familiar as 
Broadway, from the Battery to Vauxhall. No Indian 
knew it better, nor could journey by short cuts faster 
than could I. For this was my own country, and I 
trusted it. The distance was five good miles to the 
now-abandoned settlement of Broadalbin, or Fonda’s 
Bush, which some still call it, and my road lay south, 
straight as the bee flies, after I had once crossed the 
trail of the Oswaya raiders. 

I crossed it where I expected to, in a soft and marshy 
glade, unblackened by the frost, where blue flowers 
tufted the swale, and a clear spring soaked the moss 
and trickled into a little stream which, I remembered, 
was ever swarming with tiny troutlings. Here I found 
the print of Cayuga and Mohawk moccasins and white 
man’s boots a-plenty ; and, for one fierce instant, burned 
to pick up the raw trail, hanging on their rear to drive 
one righteous bullet into them when chance gave me an 
opportunity. But the impulse fled as it came. Sick at 
heart I pressed forward once more, going at a steady 
wolf-trot; and so silently, so noiselessly, that twice I 
routed deer from their hemlock beds, and once came 
plump on a tree-cat that puffed up into fury and backed 
off spitting and growling, eyes like green flames, and 
every hair on end. 

Tree after tree I passed, familiar to me in happier 
years — here an oak from which, a hundred yards due 
west, one might find sulphur water — there a pine, mark- 
ing a clean mile from the Kennyetto at its nearest curve, 
yonder a birch-bordered gulley, haunted of partridge 
345 


THE RECKONING 


and woodcock — all these I noted, scarcely seeing them 
at all, and plodded on and on until, far away through 
the trees, I heard the Kennyetto roaring in its gorge, 
like the wind at Adriutha. 

A stump-field, sadly overgrown with choke-cherry, 
sumach, and rabbit-hrier, warned me that I was within 
rifle-hail of the Rangers’ post at Broadalbin. I swung 
to the west, then south, then west again, passing the 
ruins of the little settlement — a charred beam here, an 
empty cellar there, yonder a broken well-sweep, until 
I came to the ridge above the swamp, where I must turn 
east and ford the stream, under the rifles of the post. 

There stood the chimney of what had once been my 
father’s house — the new one, “ burned by mistake,” ere 
it had been completed. 

I gave it one sullen glance; looked around me, saw 
but heaps of brick, mortar, and ashes, where barns, 
smoke-houses, granaries, and stables had stood. The 
cellar of my old home was almost choked with weeds; 
slender young saplings had already sprouted among the 
foundation-stones. 

Passing the orchard, I saw the trees under which 
I had played as a child, now all shaggy and unpruned, 
tufted thick with suckers, and ringed with heaps of small 
rotting apples, lying in the grass as they had fallen. 
With a whirring, thunderous roar, a brood of crested 
grouse rose from the orchard as I ran on, startling me, 
almost unnerving me. The next moment I was at the 
shallow water’s edge, shouting across at a blockhouse 
of logs ; and a Ranger rose up and waved his furry cap 
at me, beckoning me to cross, and calling to me by name. 
346 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOIVN 


“ Is that you, Dave Elerson ? ” I shouted. 

“ Yes, sir. Is there bad news.? ” 

“Butler is in the Valley!” I answered, and waded 
into the cold, brown current, ankle-deep in golden 
bottom-sands. Breathless, dripping thrums trailing 
streams of water after me, I toiled up the bank and 
stood panting, leaning against the log hut. 

“ Where is the post.? ” I breathed. 

“ Out, sir, since last night.” 

“ Which way.? ” I groaned. 

“ Johnstown way, Mr. Renault. The Weasel, Tim 
Murphy, and Nick Stoner was a-smellin’ after moccasin- 
prints on the Mayfield trail. About sunup they made 
smoke-signals at me that they was movin’ Kingsboro 
way on a raw trail.” 

He brought me his tin cup full of rum and water. 
I drank a small portion of it, then rinsed throat and 
mouth, still standing. 

“ Butler and Ross, with a thousand rifies and bag- 
gage-wagons, are making for the Tribes Hill ford,” I 
said. “ A hundred Cayugas, Mohawks, and Tories 
burned Oswaya just after sunrise, and are this moment 
pushing on to Johnstown. We’ve got to get there be- 
fore them, Elerson.” 

“ Yes, sir,” he said simply, glancing at the flint in 
his rifle. 

“ Is there any chance of our picking up the 
scout .? ” 

“ If we don’t, it’s a dead scout for sure,” he returned 
gravely. “ Tim Murphy wasn’t lookin’ for scalpin’ 
parties from the north.” 

f54T 


THE RECKONING 


I handed him his cup, tightened belt and breast- 
straps, trailed rifle, and struck the trail at a jog; and 
behind me trotted David Elerson, famed in ballad and 
story, which he could not read — nor could Tim Murphy, 
either, for that matter, whose learning lay in things 
unwritten, and whose eloquence flashed from the steel 
lips of a rifle that never spoke in vain. 

Like ice-chilled wine the sweet, keen mountain air 
blew in our faces, filtering throat and nostrils as we 
moved; the rain that the frost had promised was still 
far away — perhaps not rain at all, but snow. 

On we pressed, first breath gone, second breath 
steady; and only for the sickening foreboding that 
almost unnerved me when I thought of Elsin, I should 
not have suffered from the strain. 

Somewhere to the west, hastening on parallel to ouK 
path, was strung out that pack of raiding bloodhounds ; 
farther south, perhaps at this very instant entering 
Johnstown, moved the marauders from the north. A 
groan burst from my dry lips. 

Slowing to a walk we began to climb, shoulder to 
shoulder, ascending the dry bed of a torrent fairly alive 
with partridges. 

“Winter’s cornin’ almighty fast; them birds is 
a-packin’ and a-buddin’ already. Down to the Bush I 
see them peckin’ the windfall apples in your old 
orchard.” 

I scarcely heard him, but, as he calmly gossiped on, 
hour after hour, a feeling of dull surprise grew in me 
that at such a time a man could note and discuss such 
trifles. Ah, but he had no sweetheart there in the 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


threatened town, menaced by death in its most dreadful 
shape. 

“Are the women in the jail.?^ ” I asked, my voice 
broken by spasmodic breathing as we toiled onward. 

“ I guess they are, sir — leastways Jack Mount was 
detailed there to handle the milishy.” And, after a 
pause, gravely and gently : “ Is your lady there, 
sir.? ” 

“ Yes — God help her!” 

He said nothing; there was nothing of comfort for 
any man to say. I looked up at the sun. 

“ It’s close to noontide, sir,” said Elerson. “ We’ll 
make Johnstown within the half-hour. Shall we swing 
round by the Hall and keep cover, or chance it by the 
road to Jimmy Burke’s.? ” 

“ What about the scout.? ” I asked miserably. 

He shook his head, and over his solemn eyes a shadow 
passed. 

“ Mayhap,” he muttered, “ Tim Murphy’s luck will 
hold, sir. He’s been fired at by a hundred of their best 
marksmen; he’s been in every bloody scrape, assault, 
ambush, retreat, ’twixt Edward and Cherry Valley, and 
never a single bullet-scratch. We may find him in 
Johnstown yet.” 

He swerved to the right: “With your leave. Cap- 
tain Renault, we’ll fringe the timber here. Look, sir! 
Yonder stands the Hall against the sky!” 

We were in Johnstown. There, across Sir William’s 
tree-bordered pastures and rolling stubble-fields, stood 
the baronial hall. Sunlight sparkled on the windows. I 
saw the lilacs, the bare-limbed locusts, the orchards, still 
24 349 


THE RECKONING 


brilliant with scarlet and yellow fruit, the long stone 
wall and hedge fence, the lawns intensely green. 

“ It is deserted,” I said in a low voice. 

“ Hark ! ” breathed Elerson, ear to the wind. After 
a moment I heard a deadened report from the direction 
of the village, then another and another; and, spite of 
the adverse breeze, a quavering, gentle, sustained sound, 
scarce more than a vibration, that hung persistently in 
the air. 

“ By God ! ” gasped Elerson, ‘‘ it’s the bell at the 
jail! The enemy are here! Pull foot, sir! Our time 
has come ! ” 

Down the slope we ran, headed straight for the vil- 
lage. Gunshots now sounded distinctly from the direc- 
tion of the Court-House; and around us, throughout 
the whole country, guns popped at intervals, sometimes 
a single distant report, then a quick succession of shots, 
like hunters shooting partridges; but we heard as yet 
no volley-firing. 

“ Tories and scalpers harrying the outlying farms,” 
breathed Elerson. “Look sharp, sir! We’re close to 
the village, and it’s full o’ Tories.” 

Right ahead of us stood a white house; and, as we 
crossed the hay -field behind it, a man came to the back 
door, leveled a musket, and deliberately shot at us. In- 
stantly, and before he could spring back, Elerson threw 
up his rifle and fired, knocking the man headlong 
through the doorway. 

“ The impudent son of a slut ! ” he muttered to him- 
self, coolly reloading. “ Count one more Tory in hell, 
Davy, lad ! ” 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


Priming, his restless eyes searched the road-hedge 
ahead, then, ready once more, we broke into a trot, 
scrambled through the fence, and started down the road, 
which had already become a village street. It was fairly 
swarming with men running and dodging about. 

The first thing I saw clearly was a dead woman lying 
across a horse-block. Then I saw a constable named 
Hugh McMonts running down the street, chased closely 
by two Indians and a soldier wearing a green uniform. 
They caught him as we fired, and murdered him in a 
doorway with hatchet and gun-stock, spattering every- 
thing with the poor wretch’s brains. 

Our impulsive and useless shots had instantly drawn 
the fire of three red-coated soldiers ; and, as the big bul- 
lets whistled around us, Elerson grasped my arm, pulled 
me back, and darted behind a harn. Through a garden 
we ran, not stopping to load, through another barn- 
yard, scattering the chickens into frantic flight, then 
out along a stony way, our ears ringing with the harsh 
din of the jail bell. 

“ There’s the jail; run for it! ” panted Elerson, as 
we came in sight of the solid stone structure, rising 
behind its palisades on the high ground. 

I sprang across the road and up the slope, battering 
at the barricaded palings with my rifle-stock, while 
Elerson ran around the defenses bawling for admittance. 

“ Hurry, Elerson ! ” I cried, hammering madly for 
entrance ; “ here come the enemy’s baggage-wagons up 
the street I ” 

“ Jack Mount! Jack Mount! Let us in, ye crazy 
loon ! ” shouted Elerson. 


351 


THE RECKONING 


Somebody began to unbolt the heavy slab gate; it 
creaked and swung just wide enough for a man to 
squeeze through. I shoved Elerson inside and followed, 
pushing into a mob of scared militia and panic-stricken 
citizens toward a huge buckskinned figure at a stockade 
loophole on the left. 

“Jack Mount!” I called, “where are the women? 
Are they safe? ” 

He looked around at me, nodded in a dazed and 
hesitating manner, then wheeled quick as a flash, and 
fired through the slit in the logs. 

I crawled up to the epaulment and peered down into 
the dusty street. It was choked with the enemy’s bag- 
gage-wagons, now thrown into terrible confusion by the 
shot from Mount’s rifle. Horses reared, backed, swerved, 
swung around, and broke into a terrified gallop; team- 
sters swore and lashed at their maddened animals, and 
some batmen, carrying a dead or wounded teamster, 
flung their limp burden into a wagon, and, seizing the 
horses’ bits, urged them up the hill in a torrent of dust. 

I fumbled for my ranger’s whistle, set it to my lips, 
and blew the “ Cease firing 1 ” 

“ Let them alone I ” I shouted angrily at Mount. 
“ Have you no better work than to waste powder on a 
parcel of frightened clodhoppers? Send those militia- 
men to their posts I Two to a loop, yonder I Lively, 
lads; and see that you fire at nothing except Indians 
and soldiers. Jack, come up here!” 

The big rifleman mounted the ladder and leaped to 
the rifle-platform, which quivered beneath his weight. 

“ I thought I’d best sting them once,” he m\ittered. 

352 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


“ Their main force has circled the town westward toward 
the Hall. Lord, sir, it was a bad surprise they gave 
us, for we understood that Willett held them at Tribes 
Hill!” 

I caught his arm in a grip of iron, striving to speak, 
shaking him to silence. 

“ Where — where is Miss Grey ? ” I said hoarsely. 
“ You say the women are safe, do you not.^ ” 

“ Mr. Renault — sir — ” he stammered, “ I have just 
arrived at the jail — I have not seen your wife.” 

My hand fell from his arm ; his appalled face 
whitened. 

“ Last night, sir,” he muttered, “ she was at the 
Hall, watching the flames in the sky where Butler was 
burning the Valley. I saw her there in a crowd of 
townsfolk, women, children — the whole town was on the 
lawn there ” 

He wiped his clammy face and moistened his lips; 
above us, in the wooden tower, the clamor of the bell 
never ceased. 

“ She spoke to me, asking for news of you. I — I 
had no news of you to tell her. Then an officer — Cap- 
tain Little — fell a-bawling for the Rangers to fall in, 
and Billy Laird, Jack Shew, Sammons, and me — we had 
to go. So I fell in, sir ; and the last I saw she was stand- 
ing there and looking at the reddening sky ” 

Blindly, almost staggering, I pushed past him, 
stumbling down the ladder, across the yard, and into 
the lower corridor of the jail. There were w'omen 
a-plenty there; some clung to my arm, imploring news; 
some called out to me, asking for husband or son. I 
S52 


THE reckoning 


looked blankly into face after face, all strangers; I 
mounted the stairs, pressing through the trembling 
throng, searching every whitewashed corridor, every 
room; then to the cellar, where the frightened children 
huddled, then out again, breaking into a run, hastening 
from blockhouse to blockhouse, the iron voice of the bell 
maddening me! 

“ Captain Renault I Captain Renault ! ” called out 
a militiaman, as I turned from the log rampart. 

The man came hastening toward me, firelock trail- 
ing, pack and sack bouncing and flopping. 

“ My wife has news of your lady,” he said, pointing 
to a slim, pale young woman who stood in the doorway, 
a shaw 1 over her wind-blowm hair. 

I turned as she advanced, looking me earnestly in 
the face. 

“ Your lady w^as in the fort late last night, sir,” 
she began. A fit of coughing choked her ; overhead the 
dreadful clangor of the bell dinned and dinned. 

Dumb, stunned, I waited w^hile she fumbled in her 
soiled apron, and at last drew out a crumpled letter. 

“ I’ll tell you what I know^,” she said w^eakly. “We 
had been to the Hall; the sky w'as all afire. My little 
boy grew frightened, and she — your sweet lady — she 
lifted him and carried him for me — I was that sick and 
weak from fright, sir ” 

A fit of coughing shook her. She handed me the 
letter, unable to continue. 

And there, brain reeling, ears stunned by the iron 
din of the bell which had never ceased, I read her last 
words to me: 


354 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


“ Carus, my darling, I don’t know where you are. 
Please God, you are not at Oswaya, where they tell me 
the Indians have appeared above Varicks. Dearest lad, 
your Oneida came with your letter. I could not reply, 
for there were no expresses to go to you. Colonel Wil- 
lett had news of the enemy toward Fort Hunter, and 
marched the next day. We hoped he might head them, 
but last night there was an alarm, and we all went out 
into the street. People were hastening to the Hall, and 
I went, too, being anxious, now that you are out there 
alone somewhere in the darkness. 

“ Oh, Carus, the sky was all red and fiery behind 
Tribes Hill; and women were crying and children sob- 
bing all around me. I asked the Ranger, Mount, if he 
had news of you, and he was gentle and kind, and strove 
to comfort me, but he went away with his company on 
a run, and I saw the militia assembling where the drum- 
mers stood beating their drums in the torchlight. 

“ Somebody — a woman — said : ‘ It’s hatchet and 
scalping again, and we women will catch it now.’ 

“ And then a child screamed, and its mother was 
too weak to carry it, so I took it back for her to the 

jail- 

“ I sat in the jailer’s room, thinking and thinking. 
Outside the barred window I heard a woman telling how 
Butler’s men had already slain a whole family at Caugh- 
nawaga — an express having arrived with news of hor- 
rors unspeakable. 

“ Dearest, it came to me like a flash of light what I 
must do — what God meant me to do. Can you not un- 
derstand, my darling? We are utterly helpless here. 
I must go back to this man — to this man who is riding 
hither with death on his right hand, and on his left 
hand, death! 

“ Oh, Carus I Carus I my sin has found me out ! It 
is written that man should not put asunder those joined 
S55 


THE RECKONING 


together. I have defied Him! Yet He repays, merci- 
fully, offering me my last chance. 

“ Sweetheart, I must take it. Can you not under- 
stand.^ This man is my lawful husband; and as his 
wife, I dare resist him ; I have the right to demand that 
his Indians and soldiers spare the aged and helpless. I 
must go to him, meet him, and confront him, and insist 
that mercy be shown to these poor, terrified people. 
And I must pay the price! 

“Oh, Cams! Cams! I love you so! Pray for me. 
God keep you ! I must go ere it is too late. My horse 
is at Burke’s. I leave this for you. Dear, I am 
striving to mend a shattered life with sacrifice of self 
— the sacrifice you taught me. I can not help loving 
you as I do ; but I can strive to be worthy of the man I 
love. This is the only way ! Elsin Grey.” 

The woman had begun to speak again. I raised 
my eyes. 

“ Your sweet lady gave me the letter — I waited while 
she wrote it in the warden’s room — and she was crying, 
sir. God knows what she has written you! — but she 
kissed me and my little one, and went out into the yard. 
I have not seen her since, Mr. Renault.” 

Would the din of that hellish bell never cease its 
torture? Would sound never again give my aching 
brain a moment’s respite? The tumult, men’s sharp 
voices, the coughing of the sick woman, the dull, stupid 
blows of sound were driving me mad! And now more 
noises broke out — the measured crash of volleys; cheers 
f rom the militia on the parapet ; an uproar swelling all 
around me. I heard some one shout, “ Willett has 
entered the town ! ” and the next instant the smashing 

356 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


roll of drums broke out in the street, echoing back from 
fa9ade and palisade, and I heard the fifes and hunting- 
horns playing “ Soldiers’ Joy ! ” and the long double- 
shuffling of infantry on the run. 

The icy current of desperation flowed back into 
every vein. My mind cleared; I passed a steady hand 
over my eyes, looked around me, and, drawing the 
ranger’s whistle from my belt, set it to my lips. 

The clear, mellow call dominated the tumult. A 
man in deerskin dropped from the rifle-platform, an- 
other descended the ladder, others came running from 
the log bastions, all flocking around me like brown deer 
herding to the leader’s call. 

“ Fall in I ” I scarce knew my own voice. 

The eager throng of riflemen fell away into a long 
rank, stringing out across the jail yard. 

“ Shoulder arms ! Right dress ! Right face ! Call 
off!” 

The quick responses ran along the ranks : ‘‘ Right ! 
left ! right ! left ! ” 

“ Right double ! ” I called. Then, as order followed 
order, the left platoon stepped forward, halted, and 
dressed. ^ 

“ Take care to form column by platoons right, right 
front. To the right — face! March!” 

The gates were flung wide as we passed through, 
and, wheeling, swung straight into the streets of Johns- 
town with a solid hurrah ! 

A battalion of Massachusetts infantry was passing 
St. John’s Church, filling William Street with the racket 
of their drums, White cross-belts and rifles shining, 

357 


THE reckoning 


the black-gaitered column plodded past, mounted officers 
leading. Then a field-piece, harness and chains clank- 
ing, came bj, breasting the hill at a gallop, amid a 
tempest of cheers from my riflemen. And now the 
Tryon County men were passing in dusty ranks, and 
more riflemen came running up, falling in behind my 
company. 

“There’s Tim Murphy!” cried Elerson joyously. 
“ He has your horse. Captain I ” 

Down the hill from Burke’s Inn came Murphy on 
a run, leading my horse; behind him sped the Weasel 
and a rifleman named Sammons, and Burke himself, 
flourishing a rifle, all greeted lustily by the brown ranks 
behind me, amid shouts of laughter as Jimmy Burke, 
in cap and fluttering forest-dress, fell in with the others. 

Captain Renault, sorr — ” I turned. Murphy 
touched his raccoon cap. 

“ Sorr, I hov f’r to repoort thot ye’re sweet lady, 
sorr, is wid Butler at Johnson Hall.” 

“ Safe.?^ ” My lips scarcely moved. 

“ Safe so far, sorr. She rides wid their Major, Ross, 
an’ the shtaff-officers in gold an’ green.” 

I sprang to the saddle, raised my rifle and shook it. 
A shrill, wolfish yelling burst from the Rangers. 

“Forward!” And “Forward! forward!” echoed 
the sergeants, as we swung into a quick step. 

The rifles on the hill by the Hall were speaking 
faster and faster now. A white cloud hid the Hall and 
the trees, thickening and spreading as a volley of mus- 
ketry sent its smoke gushing into the bushes. Then, in 
the dun-colored fog, a red flame darted out, splitting 
358 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


the air with a deafening crash, and the thunder-clap of 
the cannon-shot shook the earth under our hurrying 
feet. 

We were close to the Hall now. Behind a hedge 
fence running east our militia lay, firing very coolly 
into the wavering mists, through which twinkled the 
ruddy rifle-flames of the enemy. The roar of the firing 
was swelling, dominated by the tremendous concussions 
of the field-piece. I saw officers riding like mounted 
phantoms through the smoke; dead men in green, dead 
men in scarlet, and here and there a dead Mohawk lay 
in the hedge. A wounded officer of Massachusetts in- 
fantry passed us, borne away to the village by Schoharie 
militia. 

As we started for the hedge on a double, suddenly, 
through the smoke, the other side of the hedge swarmed 
with men. They were everywhere, crashing through 
the thicket, climbing the fence, pouring forward with 
shouts and hurrahs. Then the naked form of an Indian 
appeared; another, another; the militia, disconcerted 
and surprised, struck at them with their gunstocks, 
wavered, turned, and ran toward us. 

I had already deployed my right into line; the 
panic-stricken militia came heading on as we opened to 
let them through ; then we closed up ; a sheet of flame 
poured out into the very faces of Butler’s Rangers; 
another, another ! 

Bolt upright in the stirrups, I lifted my smoking 
rifle : “ Rangers ! Charge ! ” 

Beneath my plunging horse a soldier in green went 
down screaming ; an Indian darted past, falling to death 
359 


THE RECKONING 


under a dozen clubbed rifles; then a yelling mass of 
green-coated soldiers, forced and crushed back into the 
hedge, turned at bay; and into this writhing throng 
leaped my riflemen, hatchets flashing. 

“ Hold that hedge. Captain Renault ! ” came a calm 
voice near me, and I saw Colonel Willett at my elbow, 
struggling with his frantic horse. 

A mounted officer near him cried : “ The rest of the 
militia on the right are wavering. Colonel ! ” 

“ Then stop them. Captain Zielie ! ” said Willett, 
dragging his horse to a stand. His voice was lost in the 
swelling roar of the fusillade where my Rangers were 
holding the hedge. On the extreme right, through an 
open field, I saw the militia scattering, darting about 
wildly. There came a flash, a roar, and the scene was 
blotted out in a huge fountain of flame and smoke. 

“ They’ve blown up the ammunition-wagon ! But- 
ler’s men have taken our cannon ! ” yelled a soldier, 
swinging his arms frantically. “ Oh, my God ! the 
militia are running from the field! ” 

It was true. One of those dreadful and unaccount- 
able panics had seized the militia. Nothing could stop 
them. I saw Colonel Willett spur forward, sword flash- 
ing; officers rode into the retreating lines, begging and 
imploring them to stand. The pressure on my riflemen 
was enormous, and I ordered them to fall back by squads 
in circles to the fringe of woods. They obeyed very 
coolly and in perfect order, retiring step by step, shot 
by shot. 

Massachusetts infantry were holding the same 
woods ; a few Tryon militia rallied to us, and Colonel 
360 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


Gray took command. “ For God’s sake, Renault, go 
and help Willett stop the militia ! ” he begged. “ I’ll 
hold this corner till you can bring us aid ! ” 

I peered about me through the smoke, gathered 
bridle, wheeled through the bushes into the open field, 
and hurled my horse forward along the line of retreat. 

Never had I believed brave men could show such 
terror. Nobody heeded me, nobody listened. At my 
voice they only ran the faster, I galloping alongside, 
beseeching them, and looking for Willett. 

Straight into the streets of Johnstown fled the 
militia, crowding the town in mad and shameless panic, 
carrying with them their mounted officers, as a torrent 
hurls chips into a whirlpool. 

“ Halt ! In Heaven’s name, what is the matter ? 
Why, you had them on the run, you men of Tryon, you 
Ulster men ! ” cried Colonel Willett. 

A seething mass of fugitives was blocked at the 
old stone church. Into them plunged the officers, curs- 
ing, threatening, imploring, I among them, my horse 
almost swept from his legs in the rushing panic. 

“ Don’t run, lads,” I said ; “ don’t put us all to this 
shame! Why, what are you afraid of.^ I saw nothing 
to scare a child on the hill. And this is my first battle. 
I thought war was something to scare a man. But this 
is nothing. You wouldn’t leave the Rangers there all 
alone, would you ? They’re up there drilling holes in the 
Indians who came to murder your wives and children. 
Come on, boys ! You didn’t mean it. We can’t let those 
yagers and Greens take a cannon as easily as that I ” 
They were listening to Willett, too; here and there 

361 


THE RECKONING 


a sergeant took up the pleading. I found an exhausted 
drummer-boy sitting on the steps of the church, and 
induced him to stand up and beat the assembly. Officer 
after officer struggled through the mob, leading out 
handfuls of men; lines formed; I snatched a flag from 
an ensign and displayed it; a company, at shoulder 
arms, headed by a drummer, emerged from the chaos, 
marching in fair alignment ; another followed more 
steadily; line after line fell in and paraded; the fifes 
began to squeal, and the shrill quickstep set company 
after company in motion. 

“ It’s all right, lads ! ” cried Willett cheerily, as he 
galloped forward. ‘‘ We are going back for that can- 
non we lost by mistake. Come on, you Tryon County 
men \ Don’t let the Rangers laugh at you ! ” 

Then the first cheer broke out ; mounted officers rode 
up, baring their swords, surrounding the Colonel. He 
gave me a calm and whimsical look, almost a smile : 

“ Scared, Cams .? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ D’ye hear that firing to the left.? Well, that’s 
Rowley’s flanking column of levies and the Massachu- 
setts men. Hark! Listen to that rifle music! Now 
we’ll drive them! Now we’ve got them at last! ” 

I caught him by the sleeve, and bent forward from 
my saddle: 

“ Do you know that the woman I am to marry is 
with the enemy.? ” I demanded hoarsely. 

“ No. Good God, Cams! Have they got her.? ” 
His shocked face paled; he laid his hand on my 
shoulder, riding in silence as I told him what I knew. 
362 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


‘‘ By Heaven ! ” he said, striking his gloved hands 
together, “ we’ll get her yet. Cams ; I tell you, we’ll 
get her safe and sound. Do you think I mean to let 
these mad wolves slink off this time and skulk away un- 
punished.^ Do you suppose I don’t know that the time 
has come to purge this frontier for good and all of 
Walter Butler You need not worry. Cams. It is 
true that God alone could have foreseen the strange 
panic that started these militiamen on a run, as though 
they had never smelled powder — as though they had not 
answered a hundred alarms from Oriskany to Curric- 
town. I could not foresee that, but, by God, we’ve 
stopped it! And now I tell you we are going to deal 
Walter Butler a blow that will end his murdering career 
forever I Look sharp I ” 

A racket of rifle-fire broke out , ahead ; two men 
dropped. 

We were in the smoke now. Indians rose from every 
thicket and leaped away in retreat; the column broke 
into a run, mounted officers trotting forward, pistol and 
sword in hand. 

Why, there’s our cannon, boys I ” cried Colonel 
Lewis excitedly. 

A roar greeted the black Colonel’s words; the entire 
line sprang forward ; a file of Oneidas sped along our 
flanks, rifles a-trail. 

Through the smoke I saw the Hall now, and in a 
field to the east of it a cannon which some Highland- 
ers and soldiers in green uniforms were attempting to 
drag off. 

At the view the yelling onset was loosed; the kilted 

363 


THE RECKONING 


troops and the grecn-coated soldiers took to their legs, 
and I saw our militia swarming around the field-piece, 
hugging it, patting it, embracing it, while from the 
woods beyond my Rangers cheered and cheered. Ah! 
now the militia were in it again ; the hedge fence was 
carried with a rush, and all around us in the red sunset 
light shouting militia. Royal Greens, and naked, yelling 
Indians were locked in a death struggle, hatchet, knife, 
and rifle-butt playing their silent and awful part. 

An officer in a scarlet coat galloped at me full tilt, 
snapped his pistol as he passed, wheeled, and attempted 
to ride me down at his sword’s point, but Colonel Wil- 
lett pistoled him as I parried his thrust with my rifle- 
barrel ; and I saw his maddened horse bearing him away, 
he swaying horridly in his saddle, falling sidewise, and 
striking the ground, one spurred heel entangled in his 
stirrup. 

Sickened, I turned away, and presently sounded the 
rally for my Rangers. For full twenty minutes militia 
and riflemen poured sheets of bullets into the Royal 
Greens from the hedge fence; their flank doubled, 
wavered, and broke as the roaring fire of Rowley’s men 
drew nearer. Twilight fell; redder and redder leaped 
the rifle-flames through the smoky dusk. Suddenly their 
whole line gave way, and we broke through — riflemen, 
militia, Massachusetts men — broke through with a ter- 
rific yell. And before us fled Indian and Tory, yager 
and renegade. Greens, Rangers, Highlanders, officers 
galloping madly, baggage-wagons smashed, horses 
down, camp trampled to tatters and splinters as the 
vengeance of Tryon County passed in a tornado of fury 
364 


THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN 


that cleansed the land forever of Walter Butler and his 
demons of the North! 

In that furious onslaught through the darkness and 
smoke, where prisoners were being taken, Indians and 
Greens chased and shot down, a steady flicker of rifle- 
fire marked the course of the disastrous rout, and the 
frenzied vengeance following — an awful vengeance now, 
for, in the blackness, a new and dreadful sound broke — 
the fiercely melancholy scalp-yell of my Oneidas! 

Galloping across a swampy field, where the dead and 
scalped lay in the ooze, I shouted the Wolf Clan chal- 
lenge; and a lone cry answered me, coming nearer, 
nearer, until in the smoke-shot darkness I saw the terrific 
painted shape of an Indian looming, saluting me with 
uplifted and reeking hatchet. 

“ Brother 1 brother ! ” I groaned, “ by the Wolf 
whose sign we wear, and by the sign of Tharon, follow 
her who is to be my wife — follow by night, by day, 
through the haunts of men, through the still places ! 
Go swiftly, 0 my brother the Otter — swiftly as hound 
on trail! I charge you by that life you owe, by that 
clan tie which breaks not when nations break, by the 
sign of Tharon, that floats among the stars forever, 
find me this woman whom I am to wed! Your life for 
hers, O brother ! Go ! ” 


25 


365 


CHAPTER XV 


butler’s ford 

For four breathless days the broad, raw trail of a 
thousand men in headlong flight was the trampled path 
we traveled. Smashing straight through the northern 
wilderness, our enemy with horses, wagons, batmen, sol- 
diers, Indians burst into the forest, tearing saplings, 
thickets, underbrush aside in their mad northward rush 
for the safety of the Canadas and the shelter denied 
them here. Threescore Oneida hatchets glittered in 
their rear; four hundred rifles followed; for the Red 
Beast was in flight at last, stricken, turning now and 
again to snarl when the tireless, stern-faced trackers 
drew too near, then running on again, growling, impo- 
tent. And the Red Beast must be done to death. 

What fitter place to end him than here in the wild 
twilight of shaggy depths, unlighted by the sun or 
moon.? — here where the cold, brawling streams smoked 
in the rank air; where black crags crouched, watching 
the hunting — here in these awful deeps, shunned by the 
deer, unhaunted by wolf and panther — depths fit only 
for the monstrous terror that came out of them, and 
now, wounded, and cold heart pulsing terror, was scram- 
bling back again into the dense and dreadful twilight 
of eternal shadow-land. 

One by one their pack-laden horses fell out ex- 

366 


BUTLER’S FORD 


hausted; and we found them, heads hanging, quivering 
and panting beside the reeking trail; one by one their 
gaunt cattle, mired in bog and swamp, entangled in 
windfalls, greeted us, bellowing piteously as we passed. 
The forest itself fought for us, reaching out to jerk 
wheels from axle, bringing wagon and team down crash- 
ing. Their dead lay everywhere uncared for, even un- 
scalped and unrobbcd in the bruised and trampled path 
of flight; clothing, arms, provisions were scattered pell- 
mell on every side; and now at length, hour after hour, 
as we headed them back from trail and highway, and 
blocked them from their boats at Oneida Lake, driving, 
forcing, scourging them straight into the black jaws of 
a hungry wilderness, we began to pass their wounded — 
ghastly, bloody, ragged things, scarce animate, save 
for the dying brilliancy of their hollowed eyes. 

On, on, hotfoot through the rain along the smoking 
trail; twilight by day, depthless darkness by night, 
where we lay panting in starless obscurity, listening 
to the giant winds of the wilderness — vast, resistless, 
illimitable winds flowing steadily through the unseen and 
naked crests of forests, colder and ever colder they blew, 
heralding the trampling blasts of winter, charging us 
from the north. 

On the fifth day it began to snow at dawn. Little 
ragged flakes winnowed through the clusters of scarlet ^ 
maple-leaves, sifted among the black pines, coming 
faster and thicker, driving in slanting, whirling flight 
across the trail. In an hour the moss was white; crim- 
son sprays of moose-bush bent, weighted with snow and 
scarlet berries ; the hurrying streams ran dark and 

367 


THE RECKONING 


somber in their channels between dead-white banks ; 
swamps turned blacker for the silvery setting ; the flakes 
grew larger, pelting in steady, thickening torrents from 
the clouds as we came into a clearing called Jerseyfleld, 
on the north side of Canada Creek ; and here at last we 
were met by a crackling roar from a hundred rifles. 

The Red Beast was at bay ! 

Up and down, through the dense snowy veil descend- 
ing, the orange-tinted rifle-flames flashed and sparkled 
and flickered; all around us a shower of twigs and 
branches descended in a steady rain. Then our brown 
rifles blazed their deadly answer. Splash! spatter! 
splash! their dead dropped into the stream; and, fol- 
lowing, dying and living took to the dark water, thrash- 
ing across through snowy obscurity. I heard their 
horses wallowing through the fords, iron hoofs fran- 
tically battering the rocky, shelving banks for foothold ; 
I heard them shriek when the Oneida tigers leaped upon 
them; I heard their wounded battling and screaming as 
they drowned in the swollen waters! 

We lay and fired at their phantom lines, now at- 
tempting to retreat at a dog-trot in single file; and as 
we knocked man after man from the plodding rank 
the others leaped over their writhing, fallen comrades, 
neither turning nor pausing in their dogged flight. 
The snow slackened, falling more thinly to the west; 
and, as the dazzling curtain grew transparent, a mass of 
men in green suddenly rose from the whitened hemlock- 
scrub and fired at our riflemen arriving in column. 

Then ensued a scene nigh indescribable. With one 
yelling bound. Ranger and Oneida were on them, shoot- 
368 


BUTLER S FORD 


ing, stabbing, dragging them down ; and, as they broke 
cover, their mounted officers, dashing out of the thicket, 
wheeled northward into galloping flight; and among 
them at last I saw my enemy, and knew him. 

A dozen Oneidas were after him. His horse, spurred 
to a gallop, crashed through the brush, and was in the 
water at a leap ; and he turned in midstream and shook 
his pistol at them insultingly. 

By Heaven, he rode superbly as the swollen waters 
of the ford boiled to his horse’s straining shoulders, while 
the bullets clipped the gilded cocked-hat from his head 
and struck his raised pistol from his hand. 

“ Head him ! ” shouted Elerson ; “ don’t let that man 
get clear ! ” Indians and Rangers raced madly along 
the bank of the creek, pacing the fugitive as he galloped. 

“ Take him alive ! ” I cried, as Butler swung his 
horse with a crash straight into the willow thickets on 
the north. We lost him to view as I spoke; and I 
sounded the rally-whistle, and ran up the bank of the 
creek, leading my horse at a trot behind me. 

The snowfall had ceased; the sun glimmered, then 
blazed out in the clearing, flooding the whitened ground 
with a dazzling radiance. Running, stumbling, falling, 
struggling through brush and brake and brier-choked 
marsh, I saw ahead of me three Oneida Indians swiftly 
cross my path to the creek’s edge and crouch, scanning 
the opposite shore. Almost immediately the Rangers 
Murphy, Renard, and Elerson emerged from the snowy 
bushes beside them ; and at the same instant I saw Walter 
Butler ride up on the opposite side of tlie creek, glance 
backward, then calmly draw bridle in plain sight. He 

369 


THE RECKONING 


was fey ; I knew it. His doom was upon him. He flung 
himself from his horse close to the ford where, set in 
the rock, a living spring of water mirrored the sun ; then 
he knelt down, drew his tin cup from his belt, bent over, 
and looked into the placid silver pool. What he saw 
reflected there Christ alone knows, for he sprang back, 
passed his hand across his eyes, and reached out his cup 
blindly, plunging it deep into the water. 

Never, never shall I forget that instant picture as 
it broke upon my view; my deadly enemy kneehng by 
the spring, black hair disheveled, the sunshine striking 
his tin cup as he raised it to his lips ; the three naked 
Oneidas, in their glistening scarlet paint, eagerly rais- 
ing their rifles, while the merciless weapons of Murphy 
and Elerson slowly fell to the same level, focused on that 
kneeling figure across the dark waters of the stream. 

A second only, then, God knows why, I could not 
endure to witness a justice so close allied with murder, 
and sprang forward, crying out : “ Cease fire ! Take 
liim alive ! ” But, with the words half-sped, flame after 
flame parted from those leveled muzzles ; and through the 
whirling smoke I saw Walter Butler fall, roll over and 
over, his body and limbs contracting with agony; then 
on all fours again, on his knees, only to sink back in a 
sitting posture, his head resting on his hand, blood pour- 
ing between his fingers. 

Into the stream plunged an Oneida, rifle and knife 
aloft, glittering in the sun. The wounded man saw him 
coming, and watched him as he leaped up the bank ; 
and while Walter Butler looked him full in the face the 
savage trembled, crouching, gathering for a leap. 

370 


BUTLER S FORD 


“ Stop that murder ! ” I shouted, plunging into the 
ford as Butler, aching head still lifted, turned a deathly 
face toward me. One eye had heen shot out, but the 
creature was still alive, and knew me — knew me, heard 
me ask for the quarter he had not asked for; saw me 
coming to save him from his destiny, and smiled as the 
Oneida sprang on him with a yell and ripped the living 
scalp away before my sickened eyes. 

“ Finish him, in God’s mercy ! ” bellowed the Ranger 
Sammons, running up. The Oneida’s hatchet, swing- 
ing like lightning, flashed once ; and the severed soul of 
Walter Butler was free of the battered, disfigured thing 
that lay oozing crimson in the trampled snow. 

Dead! And I heard the awful scalp-yell swelling 
from the throats of those who had felt his heavy hand. 
Dead I And I heard cheers from those whose loved ones 
had gone down to death to satiate his fury. And now 
he, too, was on his way to face those pale accusers wait- 
ing there to watch him pass — specters of murdered men, 
phantoms of women, white shapes of little children — 
God ! what a path to the tribunal behind whose thunder- 
ous gloom hell’s own lightning flared I 

As I gazed down at him the roar of the fusillade died 
away in my ears. I remembered him as I had seen him 
there at New York in our house, his slim fingers wander- 
ing over the strings of the guitar, his dark eyes drowned 
in melancholy. I remembered his voice, and the song 
he sang, haunting us all with its lingering sadness — ^the 
hopeless words, the sad air, redolent of dead flowers — 
doom, death, decay! 

The thrashing and plunging of horses roused me. 

371 


THE RECKONING 


I looked around to see Colonel Willett ride up, followed 
by two or three mounted officers in blue and buff, pull- 
ing in their plunging horses. He looked down at the 
dead, studying the crushed face, the uniform, the blood- 
drenched snow. 

“ Is that Butler.? ” he asked gravely. 

“ Yes,” I said ; and drew a corner of his cloak across 
the marred face. 

Nobody uncovered, which was the most dreadful 
judgment those silent men could pass. 

“ Scalped.? ” motioned Colonel Lewis significantly. 

“ He belongs to your party,” observed Willett 
quietly. Then, looking around as the rifle-fire to the 
left broke out again : “ The pursuit has ended, gentle- 
men. What punishment more awful could we leave them 
to than these trackless solitudes.? For I tell you that 
those few among them who shall attain the Canadas need 
fear no threat of hell in the life to come, for they shall 
have served their turn. Sound the recall ! ” 

I laid my hand upon his saddle, looking up into his 
face: 

“ Pardon,” I said, in a low voice ; “ I must go on ! ” 

“ Cams ! Cams ! ” he said softly, “ have they not 
told you ? ” 

“ Told me.? ” I stared. “ What? What — in the 
name of God ? ” 

“ She was taken when we struck their rear-guard 
at one o’clock this afternoon! Was there no one to 
tell you, lad ! ” 

“Unharmed.?” I asked, steadying myself against 
his stirrup. 

372 


BUTLER'S FORD 


“ Faint with fatigue, brier-torn, in rags — his ven- 
geance, but — nothing worse. That quarter-breed Mon- 
tour attended her, supported her, struggled on with her 
through all the horrors of this retreat. He had herded 
the Valley prisoners together, guarded by Cayugas. 
The executioner lies dead a mile below, his black face in 
the water. And here he lies ! ” 

He swung his horse, head sternly averted. I flung 
myself into my saddle. 

“ This way, lad. She lies in a camp-wagon at head- 
quarters, asleep, I think. Mount and your Oneida 
guard her. And the girl, Montour, lies stretched be- 
side her, watching her as a dog watches a cradled child.” 

The hunting-horns of the light infantry were sound- 
ing the recall as we rode through the low brush of Jer- 
seyfield, where the sunset sky was aflame, painting the 
tall pines, staining the melting snow to palest crimson. 

From black, wet branches overhead the clotted flakes 
fell, showering us as we came to the hemlock shelter 
where the camp-wagon stood. A fire burned there; be- 
fore it crowded a shadowy group of riflemen; and one 
among them moved forward to meet me, touching his 
fur cap and pointing. 

As I reached the rough shelter of fringing ever- 
green Mount and Little Otter stepped out; and I saw 
the giant forest-runner wink the tears away as he laid 
his huge finger across his lips. 

‘‘ She sleeps as sweetly as a child,” he whispered. 
“ I told her you were coming. Oh, sir, it will tear your 
heart out to see her small white feet so bruised, and the 
soft, baby hands of her raw at the wrists, where they 
373 


THE RECKONING 


tied her at night. . . . Is he surely dead, sir, as they 
say? ” 

“ I saw him die, thank God ! ” 

“ That is safer for him, I think,” said Mount 
simply. “ Will you come this way, sir ? Otter, fetch 
a splinter o’ fat pine for a light. Mind the wheel there, 
Mr. Renault — this way on tiptoe ! ” 

He took the splinter-light from the Oneida, fixed it 
in a split stick, backed out, and turned away, followed 
by the Indian. 

At first I could not see, and set the burning stick 
nearer. Then, as I bent over the rough wagon, I saw 
her lying there very white and still, her torn hands 
swathed with lint, her bandaged feet wrapped in furs. 
And beside her, stretched full length, lay Lyn Montour, 
awake, dark eyes fixed on mine. 

She smiled as she caught my eye ; then something in 
my face sobered her. “ He is dead? ” she motioned with 
her lips. And my lips moved assent. 

Gravely, scarcely stirring, she reached up and un- 
bound her hair, letting it down over her face. I under- 
stood, and, stepping to the fire, returned with a charred 
ember. She held out first one hand, then the other, and 
I marked the palms with the ashes, touched her forehead, 
her breast, her feet. Thus, in the solemn presence of 
death itself, she claimed at the tribunal of the Most 
High the justice denied on earth, signing herself a 
widow with the ashes none but a wedded wife may dare 
to wear. 

Lower and lower burned the tiny torch, sank to a 
spark, and went out. The black curtains of obscurity 
374 


BUTLER'S FORD 


closed in; redder and redder spread the glare from the 
camp-fire ; crackling and roaring, the flames rose, tufted 
with smoke, through which a million sparks whirled up- 
ward, showering the void above. Dark shapes moved 
in the glow with a sparkle of spur and sword as they 
turned; the infernal light fell on the naked bodies of 
Oneidas, sitting like demons, eyes blinking at the flames. 
And through the roar of the fire I heard their chant- 
ing undertone, monotonous, interminable, saluting their 
dead: 

“ Cover the White Throat at Carenayy 
Lest evil fall at Danascara, 

Lay the phantom away. 

Men of Thendara, 

Trails of Kayaderos 
And Adriutha 
Cover our loss! 

Tree of Oswaya, 

From Garoga 
To Caroga 

Cover the White Throat 

For the sake of the Silver Boat afloat 

In the Water of Light, 0 Thar on! 

This for the pledge of Aroronon 

Lest the Long House end 

And the Tree bend 

And our dead ascend in every trail 

And the Great League fail. 

Now by the brotherhood ye've sworn 
Let the Oneida mourn''* 


575 


THE RECKONING 


And I heard from the forest the deadened blows 
of mattock and spade, and saw the glimmer of burial 
torches ; and, through the steady chanting of the 
Oneida, the solemn voice of the chaplain in prayer for 
dead and living: 

“ Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us. 
And establish Thou the work of our hands upon us — 
yea, the work of our hands, establish Thou it ! ” 

It lacked an hour to dawn when the harsh, stringy 
drums rolled from the forest and the smoky camp 
awoke; and I, keeping my vigil, there in the shadow 
where she lay, listening and bending above her, was 
aware of a bandaged hand touching me — a feverish arm 
about my neck, drawing my head lower, closer, till, in 
the darkness, my face lay on hers, and our tremulous 
lips united. 

“ Is all well, my beloved ? ” 

“ All is well.^ 

“ And we part no more? ’’ 

‘‘No more.” 

Silence, then ; “ Why do they cheer so, Cams ? ” 

“ It is a lost soul they are speeding, child.” 

“ His?” 

“ Yes.” 

She breathed feverishly, her little bandaged hands 
holding my face. “Lift me a little, Cams; I can not 
move my legs. Did you know he abandoned me to the 
Cayugas because I dared to ask his mercy for the inno- 
cent? I think his reason was unseated when I came 
upon him there at Johnson Hall — so much of blood and 
376 


BUTLERS FORD 


death lay on his soul. His own men feared him; and, 
Carus, truly I do not think he knew me else he had 
never struck me in that burst of rage, so that even the 
Cayugas interposed — for his knife was in his hands.’^ 
She sighed, nestling close to me in the rustling straw, 
and closed her eyes as the torches flared and the horses 
were backed along the pole. 

In the ruddy light I saw Jack Mount approaching. 
He halted, touched his cap, and smiled; then his blue 
eyes wandered to the straw where Lyn Montour lay, 
sleeping the stunned sleep of exhaustion; and into his 
face a tenderness came, softening his bold mouth and 
reckless visage. 

“ The Weasel drives, sir. Tim and Dave and I, we 
jog along to ease the wheels — if it be your pleasure, sir. 
We go by the soft trail. A week should see you and 
yours in Albany. The Massachusetts surgeon is here 
to dress your sweet lady’s hurts. Will you speak with 
him, Mr. Renault ” 

I bent and kissed the bandaged hands, the hot fore- 
head under the tangled hair, then whispering that all 
was well I went out into the gray dawn where the sur- 
geon stood unrolling lint. 

“ Those devils tied their prisoners mercilessly at 
night,” he said, ‘‘ and the scars may show, Mr. Renault. 
But her flesh is wholesome, and the tom feet will heal — 
are healing now. Your lady will be lame.” 

“ For Hfe? ” 

“ Oh — perhaps the slightest limp — scarce to be no- 
ticed. And then again, she is so sound, and her blood 
so pure — who knows Even such tender little feet as 


THE RECKONING 


hers may bear her faultlessly once more. Patience, Mr. 
Renault.” 

He parted the hanging blankets and went in, 
emerging after a little while to beckon me. 

“ I have changed the dressing ; the wounds are be- 
nign and healthy. She has some fever. The shock 
is what I fear. Go to her; you may do more than I 
could.” 

As the sun rose we started, the Weasel driving, I 
crouching at her side, her torn hands in mine ; and beside 
us, Lyn Montour, watching Jack Mount as he strode 
along beside the wagon, a new angle to his cap, a new 
swagger in his step, and deep in his frank blue eyes a 
strange smile that touched the clean, curling corners 
of his lips. 

“ Look ! ” breathed Murphy, gliding along on the 
other side, “ ’tis the gay day f’r Jack Mount whin 
Lyn Montour’s black eyes are on him — ^the backwoods 
dandy!” 

I looked down at Elsln. The fever flushed her cheeks. 
Into her face there crept a beauty almost unearthly. 

“ My darling, my darling I ” I whispered fearfully, 
leaning close to her. Her eyes met mine, smiling, but 
in their altered brilliancy I saw she no longer knew me. 

“ Walter,” she said, laughing, “ your melancholy 
suits me — ^yet love is another thing. Go ask of Cams 
what it is to love! He has my soul bound hand and 
foot and locked in the wall there, where he keeps the 
letters he writes. If they find those letters some man 
will hang. I think it will be you, Walter, or perhaps 
Sir Peter. I’m love-sick — sick o’ love — for Carus mocks 
378 


BUTLER’S FORD 


me! Is it easy to die, Walter? Tell me, for you are 
dead. If only Cams loved me! He kissed me so easily 
that night — I tempting him. So now that I am damned 
— what matter how he uses me? Yet he never struck 
me, Walter, as you strike!” 

Hour after hour, terrified, I listened to her babble, 
and that gay little laugh, so like her own, that broke 
out as her fever grew, waxing to its height. 

It waned at midday, but by sundown she grew rest- 
less, and the surgeon, Weldon, riding forward from the 
rear, took my place beside her, and I mounted my horse 
which Elerson led, and rode ahead, a deadly fear in 
my heart, and Black Care astride the crupper, a grisly 
shadow in the wilderness, dogging me remorselessly 
under pallid stars. 

And now hours, days, nights, sun, stars, moon, were 
all one to me — things that I heeded not ; nor did I feel 
aught of heat or cold, sun or storm, nor know whether or 
not I slept or waked, so terrible grew the fear upon me. 
Men came and went. I heard some say she was dying, 
some that she would live if we could get her from the 
wilderness she raved about; for her cry was ever to be 
freed of the darkness and the silence, and that they were 
doing me to death in New York town, whither she must 
go, for she alone could save me. 

Tears seemed ever in my eyes, and I saw nothing 
clearly, only the black and endless forests swimming in 
mists ; the silent riflemen trudging on, the little withered 
driver, in his ring-furred cap and caped shirt, too big 
for him; the stolid horses plodding on and on. Medical 
officers came from Willett — Weldon and Jermyn — and 
379 


THE RECKONING 


the surgeon’s mate, McLane; and they talked among 
themselves, glancing at her curiously, so that I grew 
to hate them and their whispers. A fierce desire assailed 
me to put an end to all this torture — to seize her, cradle 
her to my breast, and gallop day and night to the open 
air — as though that, and the fierce strength of my 
passion must hold back death ! 

Then, one day — God knows when — the sky widened 
behind the trees, and I saw the blue flank of a hill un- 
choked by timber. Trees grew thinner as we rode. A 
brush-field girdled by a fence was passed, then a 
meadow, all golden in the sun. Right and left the for- 
est sheered off and fell away; field on field, hill on hill, 
the blessed open stretched to a brimming river, silver 
and turquoise in the sunshine, and, beyond it, crowning 
three hills, the haven ! — the old Dutch city, high-roofed, 
red- tiled, glimmering like a jewel in the November haze 
— Albany ! 

And now, as we breasted the ascent, far away we 
heard drums beating. A white cloud shot from the fort, 
another, another, and after a long while the dull boom- 
ing of the guns came floating to us, mixed with the noise 
of bells. 

Elsin heard and sat up. I bent from my saddle, 
passing my arm around her. 

“ Carus ! ” she cried, “ where have you been through 
all this dreadful night .f’ ” 

“ Sweetheart, do you know me? ” 

“Yes. How soft the sunlight falls ! There is a 
city yonder. I hear bells.” She sank down, her eyes 
on mine. 

380 


BUTLERS FORD 


“ The bells of old Albany, dear. Elsin, Elsin, do 
you truly know me? ” 

She smiled, the ghost of the old gay smile, and her 
listless arms moved. 

Weldon, riding on the other side, nodded to me in 
quiet content: 

“ Now all she lacked she may have, Renault,” he 
said, smiling. “ All will be well, thank God ! Let her 
sleep ! ” 

She heard him, watching me as I rode beside her. 

“ It was only you I lacked, Carus,” she murmured 
dreamily ; and, smiling, fell into a deep, sweet sleep. 

Then, as we rode into the first outlying farms, men 
and women came to their gates, calling out to us in their 
Low Dutch jargon, and at first I scarce heeded them as 
I rode, so stunned with joy was I to see her sleeping 
there in the sunlight, and her white, cool skin and her 
mouth soft and moist. 

Gun on gun shook the air with swift concussion. 
The pleasant Dutch bells swung aloft ^n mellow har- 
mony. Suddenly, far behind where our infantry moved 
in column, I heard cheer on cheer burst forth, and the 
horns and fifes in joyous fanfare, echoed by the solid 
outbreak of the drums. 

“ What are they cheering for, mother? ” I asked 
an old Dutch dame who waved her kerchief at us. 

“ For Willett and for George the Virginian, sir,” 
she said, dimpling and dropping me a courtesy. 

“ George the Virginian ? ” I asked, wondering. “ Do 
you mean his Excellency ? ” 

And still she dimpled and nodded and bobbed her 
26 S81 


THE RECKONING 


white starched cap, and I made nothing of what she 
said until I heard men shouting, “ Yorktown ! ” and 
“ The war ends ! Hurrah ! ” 

“ Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ” shouted a mounted officer, 
spurring past us up the hill ; “ Butler’s dead, and Corn- 
wallis is taken ! ” 

“ Taken? ” I repeated incredulously. 

The booming guns were my answer. High against 
the blue a jeweled ensign fluttered, silver, azure and 
blood red, its staff and halyards wrapped in writhing 
jets of snow-white smoke flying upward from the guns. 

I rode toward it, cap in hand, head raised, awed in 
the presence of God’s own victory ! The shouting streets 
echoed and reechoed as we passed between packed ranks 
of townspeople; cheers, the pealing music of the bells, 
the thunderous shock of the guns grew to a swimming, 
dreamy sound, through which the flag fluttered on high, 
crowned with the golden nimbus of the sun ! 

“ Cams ! ” 

“ Ah, sweetjieart, did they wake you ? Sleep on ; 
the war is over ! ” I whispered, bending low above her. 
“ Now indeed is all well with the world, and fit once 
more for you to live in.” 

And, as we moved forward, I saw her blue eyes lifted 
dreamily, watching the flag which she had served so 
well. 


38 ^ 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE END 

That brief and lovely season which in our North- 
land for a score of days checks the white onset of the 
snow, and which we call the Indian summer, bloomed 
in November when the last red leaf had fluttered to the 
earth. A fairy summer, for the vast arches of the skies 
burned sapphire and amethyst, and hill and woodland, 
innocent of verdure, were clothed in tints of faintest 
rose and cloudy violet ; and all the world put on a magic 
livery, nor was there leaf nor stem nor swale nor tuft 
of moss too poor to wear some royal hint of gold, deep- 
veined or crusted lavishly, where the crested oaks spread, 
burnished by the sun. 

Snowbird and goldfinch were with us — the latter 
veiling his splendid tints in modest russet; and now, 
from the north, came to us silent flocks of birds, all gray 
and rose, outriders of winter’s crystal cortege, still halt- 
ing somewhere far in the silvery north, where the white 
owls sit in the firs, and the world lies robed in ermine. 

All through that mellow Indian summer my betrothed 
grew strong, and her hurts had nearly healed. And I, 
writing my letters by the open window in the drawing- 
room, had been promised that she might make her first 
essay to leave her chamber that day — sit in the outer 
383 


THE RECKONING 


sunshine perhaps, perhaps stand upright and take a 
step or two. And, at this first tryst in the sunshine, 
she was to set our wedding day. 

From my open window I could see the city on its 
three hills against the azure magnificence of the sky, 
and the calm, wide river, still as a golden pond, and the 
white sails of sloops, becalmed on glassy surfaces re- 
flecting the blue woods. 

A little stream ran foaming down to the river, 
passing the house through a lawn all starred with late- 
grown dandelions ; and even yet the trout w^ere running 
up to the still sands of their breeding-nooks above — 
great brilliant fish, spotted with flecks that glowed like 
living sparks; and now I looked to see if I might spy 
them pass, shooting the falls, gay in their bridal-dress 
of iridescent gems, wishing them good speed to their 
shadowy woodland tryst. 

Too deeply happy, too content to more than trifle 
with the letters I must pen, I idled there, head on hand, 
listening for her I loved, watching the fair world in the 
sunshine there. Sometimes, smiling, I unfolded for the 
hundredth time and read again the generous letter from 
Sir Peter and Lady Coleville — so kindly, so cordial, so 
honorable, all patched with shreds of gossip of friend 
and foe, and how New York lay stunned at the news of 
YorktovTi. Never a word of the part that I had played 
so long beneath their roof — only one grave, unselfish 
line, saying that they had heard me praised for my 
bearing at Johnstown battle, and that they had always 
known that I could conduct in no wise unworthy of a 
soldier. 


384 


THE END 


Too, they promised, if a flag was to be had, to come 
to Albany for our wedding, saying we were wild and 
wilful, and needed chiding, promising to read us lessons 
merited. 

And there was a ponderous letter from Sir Freder- 
ick Haldimand in answer to one I wrote telling him all — 
a strange melange of rage at Butler’s perfidy and in- 
solence, and utter disgust with me; though he said, 
frankly enough, that he would rather see his kinswoman 
wedded to twenty rebels than to one Butler. With 
which he slammed his pen to an ungracious finish, ending 
with a complaint to heaven that the world had used him 
so shabbily at such a time as this. 

Which sobered Elsin when I read it, she being the 
tenderest of heart; but I made her laugh ere the quick 
tears dried in her eyes, and she had written him the love- 
liest of letters in reply, which was already on its journey 
northward. 

Writing to my father and mother of the happy 
news, I had not as yet received their approbation, yet 
knew it would come, though Elsin was a little anxious 
wl^n I spoke so confidently. 

Yet one more happiness was in store for me ere the 
greatest happiness of all arrived; for that morning, 
from Virginia, a little packet came to Elsin; and open- 
ing it together, we found a miniature of his Excellency, 
set in a golden oval, on which we read, inscribed : “ With 
great esteem,” and signed, “ Geo. Washington.” 

So, was it wonderful that I, sitting there, should 
listen, smiling, for some sound above to warn me of 
her coming.^ 


385 


THE RECKONING 


Never had sunshine on the gilded meadows lain so 
softly, never so pure and soft the aromatic air. And 
far afield I saw two figures moving, close together, often 
pausing to look upon the beauty of the sky and hills, 
then straying on like those who have found what they 
had sought for long ago — Jack Mount and Lyn Mon- 
tour. 

And, as I leaned there in the casement, following 
them with smiling eyes, a faint sound behind me made 
me turn, start to my feet with a cry. 

All alone she stood there, pale and lovely, blue eyes 
fixed on mine ; and, at my cry, she took a little step, and 
then another, flushing with shy pride. 

“ Cams ! Sweetheart ! Do you see ? ” 

And at first she protested prettily as I caught her 
in my arms, lifting her in fear lest her knees give way, 
then smiled assent. 

“ Bear me, if you will,” she breathed, her white arms 
tightening about my neck ; “ carry me with all the bur- 
dens you have borne so long, my strong, tall lover! — 
lest I dash my foot against a stone, and fall at your 
feet to worship and adore! Here am I at last! Ah, 
what am I to say to you? The day? Truly, do you 
desire to wed me still? Then listen; bend your head, 
adored of men, and I will whisper to you what my heart 
and soul desire.” 


386 





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